Fifty-Six Funerals
by Chanel19
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and Hermione try to make sense of their post-battle life and their relationships. Takes place immediately after the previous story in this series, Back at the Burrow. FYI, the story isn't as grim as it sounds. I probably should have called it something else. The funerals are in the background.
1. Family

The morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione woke in her bed alone, unaware of when Ron had left in the night. She looked over to see Ginny asleep in her bed, and for a moment, she wondered if she'd dreamed the whole thing. She looked at the clock. It was six-thirty. She pulled on her dressing gown and padded downstairs in her bare feet expecting to find Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, but the house was unnaturally quiet, and the kitchen was empty. She filled the enormous kettle and used Bellatrix's wand to light the stove and set the kettle on to boil. She knew she should try and think of it as her wand, but it just didn't feel right. She dug around in the cabinets until she found the large pot Mrs. Weasley used to make porridge and set it on the counter. She went to the pantry to get oatmeal. When she came out Fleur was standing in the kitchen.

"I thought I'd make breakfast," Hermione explained.

"Good idea," Fleur said. "I don't know if we'll see Molly today or not."

Hermione filled the pot with the wand and lit the stove.

Fleur got milk and butter out of the icebox and then went to get cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, and sugar out of the spice cabinet. Hermione looked at all the other ingredients and smiled sadly. "You're going to have to add all that. I've been making it with just oats and water."

Fleur gave her a warm smile back. "I'll show you. It's quite good this way."

"I know," Hermione said. "I love the way you make porridge. I don't know why I didn't have you show me when we stayed at the cottage."

Fleur looked at her. "You had a lot on your plate then."

Hermione nodded.

They made the porridge and by the time it was almost done, Bill and Ron had come downstairs. Bill hugged Fleur and kissed her good morning. Ron hung back in the kitchen door.

"Morning," he said to the floor. His ears were very red.

Hermione poured tea into four cups and set the pot on the table. Everyone took a cup and sat down. Bill sat next to Fleur and Ron sat next to Hermione.

"What time did you get up," Bill asked Fleur. Hermione noticed that they sat very close together, but Ron had left a significant gap between her and him. He still hadn't looked at her. She had a sinking feeling that he regretted last night and it made her feel sick. She had hoped last night was the beginning of something, but now, in the cold light of morning, she wasn't so sure.

Bill and Fleur continued to talk quietly. Percy came in and got himself a cup of tea. Hermione got up and served the porridge. Charlie came in and she gave him a bowl. When Ginny came in, Hermione got up and served her too. She didn't know what else to do with herself and Ron's silence was unnerving. She hadn't exactly expected him to talk about last night as such, but she'd expected some acknowledgement, a touch, a whisper, something. Harry came down then and Ginny got up and fixed his bowl of porridge. She set it in front of him and kissed the top of his head. That, Hermione thought, was all she wanted, just a small gesture of affection. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came down then and when Mrs. Weasley saw them all eating breakfast together, she sobbed, and then George came in and they all started crying. The whole family ended up in a giant hug around George and his mother, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Fleur to stand awkwardly to the side. When the family settled down enough to resume their seats, Hermione got Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and George each a bowl of porridge, because that apparently was her new role, Porridge Master. She supposed it beat having no role at all. No one ate very much. Even Ron, notorious for being able to eat through any crisis, didn't finish his breakfast. Reluctantly, talk turned to Fred's funeral. The whole family walked up the hill to the Weasley family cemetery behind the field where they played Quidditch. Harry went back to bed. Hermione and Fleur cleaned up breakfast and started taking stock of the food situation so they could plan lunch. Fred's body, was enshrouded in a simple wooden casket in the parlor.

When the family returned from the hill, Bill told Fleur and Hermione that they'd chosen a spot and the funeral would be in the morning. The Ministry had actually determined the date of the funeral, all the funerals. All fifty-six of them would be held, four a day, over the next two weeks. Harry had already decided he would attend all of them. Ron and Hermione didn't feel like he should do that alone, so they would be going too. Ginny had also decided to go, because she didn't ever intend to be left behind again. After lunch, Hermione and Fleur went to Diagon Alley to buy funeral robes for Hermione. Fleur had to take Muggle money from Hermione and exchange it for Galleons at Gringott's because Hermione wasn't allowed in the bank. The Goblins were still arguing that she, Harry, and Ron should be prosecuted for breaking and entering, along with a host of other crimes, but the Ministry held fast that it wouldn't be doing that. Negotiations were on-going. In the meantime, Harry and Hermione's accounts were frozen. Ron didn't have an account and wasn't allowed to open one.

Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was busy but Hermione and Fleur didn't linger to shop. Hermione picked out a simple set of traditional high-collared robes in black and two long thin silk scarves, one in black and the other blue. She'd been wearing a winter scarf all the time to cover the bandage on her neck, but it was too warm to wear in May. They took her purchases and Disapparated back to the Burrow. It was weird to Disapparate alone. For months, she'd had Ron or Harry, or both of them, with her every time she Disapparated.

xXx

Ron felt like a complete berk trying to dress for his brother's funeral. His brother was dead. Tonks and Lupin were dead. Loads of people were dead. Teddy was an orphan now. Hermione might as well be an orphan. And what had he done? He'd rubbed up against her in the night like some bloody wanker and then cried. He'd cried! At least he'd remembered to tell her he loved her. She'd said it back but then he'd cried. Cried! He shook his head at how bloody pathetic he was. She'd been there in his arms, warm and inviting. He'd had his mouth on her breast. He'd been so close to getting it right and then he'd failed. Everything he'd read in the book he'd gotten from Bill after Christmas before last went right out of his head and he'd botched it. She'd been perfect and he'd been a prat. Fred would so take the mickey if he knew about last night, but Fred would never take the mickey out of him again, because Fred was dead, and that was final. In an hour, they were going to put him in the ground and then what? Life would go on with eight instead of nine. With just George, not Fred and George, not Forge. He didn't know how George was even getting out of bed. Ever since the battle, his chest had felt tight like there was a cauldron sitting on it weighing him down. The only time he hadn't felt that was for those brief wondrous moments in bed with Hermione. She'd felt so good in his hands, she'd smelled so good, the taste of her skin was so good. There was so much he'd wanted to do that he hadn't done, because he'd been too bloody busy crying all over her like a giant baby. He'd wanted to say something to her at breakfast, but everyone was there and now they had to go bury Fred in a little while and then go to three more funerals. Why did Harry want to attend every bloody funeral? He sighed. He didn't want to bury Fred. He didn't want to stand there next to George and watch them put Fred in the ground. He couldn't bear the anguish on the faces of his parents and siblings. It was too much.

He looked in the mirror. He couldn't even tie his bloody tie right.

"Hey," Hermione said, from the doorway to his room. "It's time."

He looked at her and wanted to weep all over again. She stood there in full-length funeral robes, buttoned up to the top of her neck and all he wanted to do was rip them off, to carry her to bed and pretend none of this was happening, but instead he said, "I can't get this."

"Let me," she said and stepped into the room. She reached up with thin fingers and deftly fixed his tie as though she tied men's ties all the time, like she'd done this a million times before for a million other lovers, and he despaired that he'd ever be good enough for her. "Thanks," he said, hating himself for the way his voice caught. He followed her downstairs where he looked at the floor, knowing that if he looked at anyone's face, he'd lose it and spend the rest of the day sobbing.

His father cast the spell to levitate the casket and the family walked behind it up the hill. They walked in pairs in birth order: Bill and Charlie directly behind their parents, then Percy and George followed by Ron and Ginny. They could walk in pairs now that they were a family of eight instead of nine. Fleur, Harry, and Hermione, walked three abreast behind the family followed by Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson and a hundred other people.

Many people spoke. People loved Fred, but of course, he knew that. As everyone spoke about Fred's enthusiasm for life, his generous nature, his sense of humor, Ron had the desperate urge to stand up and say "he cursed me with a lifelong fear of spiders because he turned my teddy bear into one when I was really little," but he didn't. It just seemed easier to be annoyed or angry than it was to be so profoundly sad. His mother's soft weeping was killing him. When the family stood to place white roses on the grave, Ron's eyes skimmed the crowd looking for Hermione. She was there, holding Harry's arm, her eyes downcast. He sighed and dropped the rose onto Fred's grave. Like Fred gave a toss about flowers, but it was traditional, so it was done. He resumed his place next to Ginny and the family retraced its steps back to the garden where there would be a reception.

xXx

They actually stood in a line, again in birth order, to shake people's hands and thank them for coming. Everyone brought food. He couldn't help thinking that there was more food piled on that one overflowing table than he'd seen in the last year. He wondered if Harry and Hermione were thinking that too. When the crowd finally started to thin out, Ron found himself actually grateful to have another funeral to go to so he could get out of there. His family's collective grief was suffocating. He kissed his mother's damp cheek and hugged his father and brother's and then took Hermione's arm as Ginny took Harry's and they Disapparated to the Midland's for Colin Creevy's funeral. They'd been to the Midland's while they were on the lam, but none of them had been to Colin Creevy's house before, so once they'd Apparated to Sherwood, they had to take the Knight Bus to his house.

Since Ron didn't know Colin that well, he expected the funeral to be easier, but the agony on Colin's parents' and brother's faces mirrored the agony on Ron's family's faces and it wasn't easier at all. It was a Muggle funeral with men lifting the casket. They'd asked Harry to be one of those men and he'd agreed. Worse, after the funeral, Dennis introduced his parents to the three of them and they had to stand there while the Creevy's thanked them and that somehow made it all so much worse. They were getting ready to leave, when Dennis approached Hermione.

"I just wanted to tell you as a Muggleborn, how much your role in all this mattered to us. You really were our champion, Hermione, none of us Muggleborns will ever forget that."

Hermione was clearly stunned by the statement, but managed to thank him for his kind words and to again offer her condolences for his loss. Ron could tell it cost her. The last thing he wanted to do was attend another funeral, but that's what they did. The next two funerals were for people none of them had ever met. The first was for an employee of the Knight Bus and the next was for a pastry chef at Madam Puddifoot's. Ron couldn't focus on anything said about either one of them. All he could feel was Hermione's shoulder pressed against his as they sat in folding chairs while Madam Puddifoot gave the eulogy for her erstwhile pastry chef. He wanted to take her hand. He wanted her to hold on to his arm as she'd held on to Harry's at Fred's funeral, but she kept her hands clasped together in her lap. She sat perfectly still with a blank stare through both funerals. Next to them sat Harry and Ginny. She had her arm around his and their hands were clasped as they listened to the speakers. Ron wanted not to be such a prat. He wanted to go home, but he didn't want to see his family. In a weird way, he found himself missing the tent. It would be nice to retreat somewhere.


	2. Four Down, Fifty-Two to Go

When the four of them returned to the Burrow after an impromptu stop at St. Mungo's to visit the wounded, Hermione felt like her head would explode. She knew Harry carried a tremendous burden of responsibility for the lives lost and the injuries sustained in the war. People seemed to take genuine comfort in his presence, so he felt compelled to be present. Naturally, she, Ron, and Ginny felt compelled to be with him, so the four of them were now locked in what would become a near constant state of meet and greet. After months of it just being the three of them, the steady stream of people was overwhelming and it was only the first day. She wanted to cry by herself somewhere quiet. She found herself bizarrely missing the tent. To make matters worse, Ron was barely acknowledging her. He sat next to her, took her arm to Disapparate, but nothing else. He'd hardly made eye contact and had said almost nothing. She desperately hoped it was just grief that held his tongue and made him seem so distant, but as the day had worn on, it started to feel like something else.

Perhaps she'd pushed him. After all, she had initiated the kiss in the middle of the battle. She'd said she didn't want to sleep alone after he'd offered to sleep in Ginny's bed. What if all of this had been about placating her? What if, in fact, she had been right all along. He wasn't attracted to her in that way. He'd kissed her back and he'd certainly been quick to take her up on her offer to join her in bed, but he was a healthy male, and he did love her after a fashion. She knew he loved her as a friend and perhaps he was simply giving her what he knew she wanted. The idea made her nauseated. She'd thrown herself at him and he'd simply gone along. How completely like him. She'd taken advantage of his friendship and now she felt like a slag. Perhaps months of being trapped in a tent with the two of them had warped her mind. Even though the world had suddenly opened up, she didn't want anyone else. She longed for Ron to feel the way she did. It wasn't just that he was tall and strong and smelled so good. He had been such a positive presence over these last few months. He'd really taken the lead and then at Shell Cottage, she'd thought…but there wasn't a single thing he'd done that couldn't also be attributed to a close friend…except for the recent kissing and groping, but she'd started all that. Not for the first time, she mourned that her mother was on the other side of the planet and lost to her. She could use some advice right now and there wasn't anyone around who wasn't related to Ron that she could ask. She was changing out of her robes when the door to Ginny's room opened and Ginny came inside. Hermione quickly turned her back to the door since there were people walking up and down the stairs. None of the Weasley's ever seemed to knock on a door or consider that a person might want a moment just to themselves. She envied that Harry got to sleep in Ron's top floor room, not only because he got to be with Ron, but because that room didn't have the foot traffic that Ginny's room had.

Ginny didn't apologize for barging in. She didn't even notice that Hermione was changing. "Fleur said dinner will be ready shortly. I can't wait to get out of these clothes." Hermione finished unbuttoning the top of her funeral robes and shrugged them off. Ginny gasped. "Bloody hell, Hermione."

"What?" Hermione said, reaching for her jeans.

"I knew you'd lost weight, but—you're even thinner than Harry and he's way too thin."

Hermione felt hideous. "We didn't exactly have a team of house elves feeding us on the run," she snipped.

"I know, but…" Ginny didn't seem to know how to end that sentence. "At least there's plenty of food here."

"Yes, I saw what everyone brought this morning," Hermione said, pulling a faded green, long-sleeved T-shirt over her head. "That's more food than we've seen all year."

Ginny looked so concerned that Hermione felt herself blushing. "I'll see you downstairs," she said, moving past Ginny to escape her pity.

If anything, downstairs was worse because the entire Weasley clan was like a tidal wave of emotion. There were aunts and uncles and cousins that Hermione recognized from Bill and Fleur's wedding. They were all talking at once, laughing, crying, eating. Angelina was also there, as was Lee Jordan, which was great for George, but just added to the din. She looked around the crowded parlor and saw Ron. She went over to him. "Where's Harry," she asked, looking around.

"He had some cottage pie and went to bed," Ron said. His eyes skittered away from hers unwilling to really look at her.

"Oh," she said. She wished she could go to bed, but while it might be quiet enough to do that on the top floor, it certainly wasn't quiet enough to do that right above this cacophony, and she couldn't put wards around a room that wasn't even hers without Ginny even being inside. The night wore noisily on. Eventually, Angelina and Lee went home and various relatives began to trickle away. Mr. Weasley announced that he and Molly were going to bed, hugging all their children goodnight before they did. There was a brief quiet that followed their departure and then Bill stood up.

"Come on lads," he said. "Time to give Fred a proper send off." His brothers all got to their feet. Bill reached out his hand to Ginny. "For tonight, you're a lad too." She followed them all out the door.

Hermione and Fleur were the only two left in the parlor. The silence was deafening as if someone had cast Silencio. She considered just going to bed, but was struck with immobility. She probably wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.

"Are you alright?" Fleur asked.

Hermione looked at her. "I don't know. I mean, I guess I am. I'm just tired."

"You should go to bed. It's been a long day," Fleur said.

"What about you? Aren't you tired?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, but I need to make sure they all get back okay."

"Where did they go?" Hermione asked.

"Probably up to the grave to get drunk, I imagine." Fleur said. "I worry about Bill. Charlie will have him drinking more than he should. It's better if I wait up."

"I'll wait with you then."

It was almost two hours before the Weasley siblings returned to the house. As expected, they were all drunk. Fleur stood when they came in through the kitchen door, so Hermione did too. Bill was the first in and wrapped his arms around Fleur. "We're back!" he announced as if she'd missed it.

"I see that," she said. "It's very late. You should all go to bed."

"You are very pretty," Charlie said to Fleur. "Have you always been this pretty?" He turned to Percy. "Was Bill's wife always that pretty?"

Percy leaned toward her peering at her through his glasses. "I think so, yes," he said quite seriously.

"Yes," Ron said. "She's always been very pretty. And she's a good cook and a good cook teacher." He paused. "Good cook teacher? Is that right?" He looked at Hermione. "Is that right?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "Go to bed, Ron. You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," he protested. "Now George, George is drunk. Ginny too. All the Weasley's whose names start with G are drunk." He seemed pleased at that insight.

Percy and Charlie were holding up George between them. Ron was holding up Ginny on his own.

"Why do they keep talking about how pretty you are?" Bill asked Fleur. "I don't like that." He bared his teeth at his brothers and let out a low growl.

"Okay, that's us to bed then," Fleur said. "Percy, Charlie, go pour George into bed and then yourselves. Hermione help Ron get Ginny to bed. I'll deal with Bill." She pushed her husband ahead of her toward the stairs.

Percy and Charlie did as they were told and hauled George up to his room. Hermione got on the other side of Ginny. "Come on, Ron," she said and led them to the stairs. She was grateful for the moment that Ginny's room was only one floor up because she was all but passed out. They got her on to her stomach in bed and Hermione took off her shoes. When she turned around, Ron was still standing in the room.

"I like your hair," he said, reaching for it.

"That's great," Hermione said, ducking his hand. "Go to bed."

"Can I sleep with you?" Ron asked. He pressed his finger to his lips. "I'll be very quiet. You won't know I'm there."

He started for her bed but she grabbed his arm. "No, you can't sleep here. You're drunk."

"Come on," he whined. "You're my best…come on…I…you…" He leaned down and planted a sloppy kiss on her lips. "Is that right?" he asked. "Is that what you…I don't…come on." He put his hand on her breast. "You like that, right?"

She knew he was just drunk, but after a day of being barely acknowledged, it felt like he was mocking her. She blinked back tears and turned him around. "I don't think so," she said and pushed him out the door and closed it behind him.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door, Hermione opened it, prepared to tell Ron to go back to his own room, but it was Fleur.

"May I sleep here tonight?" she asked, her face flushed.

"Um, sure," Hermione said. "Is everything alright?"

Fleur sighed and came in, closing the door behind her. "Sometimes, it is very annoying to be part Veela."

"Okay," Hermione said.

"Bill doesn't normally drink," Fleur explained. "He has the occasional beer, but he doesn't get drunk, because when he does he gets a bit…wolfish."

"I heard the growl." Hermione said.

"Right, well, it's just easier to sleep down here than it is to fend him off all night."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I'm sorry. I'll get the cot out of the closet."

Fleur sighed again. "Once you get past puberty as a Veela you can control the power much better. The same is true of men, once they're out of puberty they're less susceptible to the effect, especially of someone who is only part Veela, but drunkenness changes all of that. It's very tedious."

Hermione pulled out her wand and cast the charm that snapped the cot together. "At least you're pretty?"

"Am I?" Fleur said. "I wouldn't know. I could look like ten miles of bad road, but men will always say a Veela is pretty."

Hermione handed Fleur one of the pillows off her bed. "You don't look like ten miles of bad road. You're lovely and I'm not even slightly susceptible to your charms."

Fleur smiled at her. "Thanks. What a nice thing to say. Other women never comment on my looks."

"Really?"

"In school, sometimes they would say something nasty, but now, if I get my hair cut or wear a new frock, no one ever says anything."

"Ah," Hermione said. "I can see that." She handed Fleur two blankets from the top of the closet. "There aren't any extra sheets in here, but you could sleep on top of one blanket and under the other."

"That's fine," Fleur said. "I appreciate you making room for me." She looked over at Ginny sprawled out on her bed. "I know I'm not her favorite person."

Hermione shrugged. "She just needs to get to know you better. You're alright by me."

Fleur smiled at her. "Thanks." She settled the blankets on the cot. "Oh, and if you don't mind, please don't mention the situation with Bill to anyone else. I'll be out of here in the morning before anyone else is up."

"Not a problem," Hermione said.


	3. A Big Deal

True to her word, Fleur was gone when Hermione woke the next morning. The cot and blankets were back in the closet and the extra pillow was on the foot of Hermione's bed. She got up and put on her dressing gown, braided her hair, and went downstairs. There was a large cauldron on the stove. Hermione glanced out the kitchen window to see Bill and Fleur in the herb garden. Bill looked penitent. Fleur looked irritated. She had a handful of something green in her hand and was gesturing with it as she made some point. Bill nodded. She looked away from him. He touched her cheek and she stepped into his embrace. Fleur was a couple of inches taller than Hermione but Bill still towered over her as he wrapped his arms around her. Hermione looked away from the private moment and started making tea.

A few minutes later, Fleur came inside and dropped the handful of greens into the cauldron.

"What are you making?" Hermione asked.

"Hangover potion," Fleur said. "There were only two bottles in the potion cabinet and I imagine we're going to need a lot more than that."

"Do you need any help?" Hermione asked.

"No, it's done," Fleur said. "I'm just letting it cool before bottling it, but they can take it warm. Temperature doesn't affect the properties."

Bill came in a few minutes later and had a ladle full of the potion. Hermione handed him a cup of tea. "Thanks," he said.

Percy was up next. His curly hair was puffed high and unruly.

"Hangover potion?" Fleur asked. She held out the ladle to him. "Careful. It's still hot."

"I don't care," Percy said and took the ladle. He blew on it for a minute and then drank it down. He looked at Fleur. "How did you manage to make it taste good?"

"I add mint at the end," Fleur said. "It also has the added benefit of improving the breath at the same time."

"Genius," Percy said.

"I'll get some porridge going," Hermione said. "We've got funerals to attend in a few hours."

Bill went back to bed.

xXx

The oatmeal porridge was ready and Hermione and Fleur were eating when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen. Mr. Weasley took one look at the large cauldron of hangover potion and gave a stern look to Percy.

"The drinking was not my idea," said Percy, who was hunched over his own bowl of porridge.

His father sighed and sat down at the head of the table. Hermione handed him a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea. Mrs. Weasley stood in the center of the kitchen just staring.

"Come and sit down, Molly," Mr. Weasley said. She quietly complied and Hermione handed her a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea as well.

"I don't know what we'd do without you two," Mr. Weasley said to Fleur and Hermione. "It seems like every time something needs doing, one of you is there to handle it."

Fleur and Hermione both assured him they were happy to help.

Ron was the next up. Fleur gave him the ladle for the hangover potion and when he was done drinking it down, he realized Hermione had left the kitchen.

"Where'd Hermione go?"

"Back upstairs. Probably wanted to get in the shower before the rush," his father said.

"Right," Ron said, looking toward the stairs.

xXx

The rest of his family and Harry all eventually made their way downstairs, but he didn't see Hermione again until it was time to go to the first funeral. She held out her arm and he took it, but no words were exchanged between them for the rest of the day until they returned from the last funeral.

Hermione started for the house, but Ron called to her. "Can I have a word?"

Harry and Ginny glanced at them and exchanged looks before going inside.

Hermione folded her arms and turned around to look at him.

He cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry about last night. I didn't mean to get so drunk and then when we got back I shouldn't have…" he shook his head. "I'm sorry for pawing at you like that. It was drunkenly stupid and I apologize."

"Okay," Hermione said and turned back around to go inside.

"Wait, Hermione, what…I mean…um…is that it?"

She turned back around. "What else did you want?"

"Dunno. I just…aren't you going to…" He shrugged. "Anything?"

She glared at him. "Have you just given up on speaking in complete sentences?"

"What?"

"You're not actually saying anything. Conversations with you lately have more gaps than words. I don't know what you're trying to say, but whatever it is, it's not coming across."

He blinked at her. He knew she was right. He couldn't seem to express himself to her since the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. He knew what he wanted to say, but somehow when it got down to actually saying it, the whole thing fell apart in his mouth and nothing but rubbish came out. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Yes," she said. "That part I got." She turned around and went inside.

Ron wanted to scream. A week ago, they'd been a well-oiled machine. They knew their roles. They'd survived Malfoy Manor. They'd survived breaking into Gringott's and escaping on a blind dragon. He'd even boldly gone behind that curtain, despite her protests, and helped her heal her burned legs. A week ago, he'd felt like a man. Now, he somehow felt like a kid again. The baby-brother. The sidekick. Harry seemed to have embodied his new role just fine as he shook an endless number of hands and spoke solemnly to every grieving person who came his way. Ginny stood by him like they'd been doing this funeral gig for years. But somehow, he and Hermione had fallen apart. A week ago, she'd been the go-to problem solver. Double Side-along Apparition, no problem. Complex security wards, no problem. Figuring out how to get into Bellatrix's vault, no problem. She was a bloody genius, why was she doling out porridge every morning like a House Elf? He stared at the Burrow in all its lopsided glory. All he'd wanted when they were on the run was to come back here, to feel safe again, but now that he was back, it all felt wrong. It was too small, too crowded, too sad, too much of his past and not enough of his future. Hermione was what he wanted his future to look like. He knew that but now he was mired in all these funerals and all this family stuff. He felt like he was stuck in a bog and she was floating further and further away from him. She came through the back door then. She'd changed out of her funeral robes and into jeans and a T-shirt and one of those scarves she was always wearing now.

"Hey," he said.

"I'm going out," she said.

"Out? Out where?" Ron said, panic starting to set in. "Hey, wait, I'll go with you. It's still dangerous."

"I'll be back later." And she was gone.

Ron stared at the spot she'd Disapparated from. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

xXx

Hermione's intention had been to go to her parents' house, but as she stood on the street in front of it, she couldn't bear to go in. She was pleased to see that the wards she'd set up around the house had held up, but she redid them just in case they were starting to fray. She wasn't as experienced at casting shielding when she'd cast the ones around her parents' house, so it felt prudent to redo them. When she was done, she went into the garden instead of the house. She wasn't ready for the house. She wasn't sure if she would ever be ready.

The garden was just slightly wider than the house and three times the length. Her parents had taken such pleasure in the narrow strip of land, planting it in themed 'rooms' like those featured on the gardening shows they enjoyed watching on television. What had once been lovely was now tatty and overgrown. The only spell Hermione had known to cast on the garden before she left was one that retarded the growth of the lawn, so the neighbors wouldn't complain about overgrown grass. Everything else needed trimming and weeding. She didn't know any other horticulture spells though, so she went into the garden shed, got some gloves and pruning shears, and set to work. An hour later, when a rose bush snagged her arm and left a long thin scratch, she decided she'd had enough. She was tired and grubby and she wanted to get back before anyone started to worry. She put away the shears and gloves, rewrapped her scarf, and Disapparated.

xXx

Ron slammed open the kitchen door and was striding toward her the moment she landed. She could tell by the look on his face that she'd been gone too long. "Where the hell have you been?" he shouted.

"Ron—," she started.

"An hour! You've been gone a whole bloody hour! Have you gone mad? Anything could have happened!" He stopped. "What happened? You're covered in dirt. You're bleeding. Were you attacked? Come on, let's get you inside." He looked around nervously as though she might have been followed.

"I'm fine. I wasn't attacked," Hermione said soothingly, trying to ignore the fact that he seemed to think he had a right to know where she was every minute of the day and could shout at her if she did something without giving him all the details.

"Then why are you bleeding?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"It's just a scratch and it's stopped bleeding. I was working in the garden."

"No, you weren't—"

"My parents' garden," she explained.

"Oh," Ron said, suddenly deflating as all the fear and anger seemed to drain out of him. "I didn't realize…well…yeah…okay." He put his arms around her and hugged her tight. "Just…please…it's not safe. The Aurors are still rounding up Death Eaters. They haven't cleared your parents' place yet. You can't just go off on your own like that." He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. "If something had happened to you…"

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm sorry. I should've said where I was going. I didn't go inside where there might be boobytraps. I stayed in the garden." She breathed him in and reveled in the feel of his arms around her. She didn't care if he only held her because she'd worried him. She wanted to pull off his shirt and taste his skin, she wanted to drop to her knees and see and taste what she'd only felt rubbing against her in the dark. She shivered.

"Are you alright?" he said, stepping away from her.

"Fine," she said, feeling herself blush. "I just need a shower and something to eat."

He nodded. "Well, go on then."

She cleared her throat and went inside.

Harry and Ginny were standing in the kitchen when she walked in. Harry frowned at her. "Don't do that again," he said firmly.

She nodded and went upstairs, ignoring the look of shock that registered on Ginny's face.

xXx

Ron ran his fingers through his hair and watched Hermione walk inside. She was going to be the death of him. He didn't know what she'd been thinking, running off like that, to her parents' house of all places. Death Eaters could have overrun the place, set traps, anything. He couldn't believe she could be so reckless, but then he considered her situation, and his temper cooled. He knew she missed them. He knew she was having a hard time living with her actions now that the war was over and she'd survived. He figured she hadn't expected to have to deal with the ramifications of having removed herself from their memories. He shook his head. He wished he knew of something to make it better, to comfort her, but there was nothing. Obliviation was permanent. Her parents weren't ever coming back. They might as well be dead, but they weren't, they were alive and living their life somewhere without her, and he thought, in some ways, that must be worse for her.

He just wished he could get a grip on himself. He needed to be strong for her and for his family, but he felt weak and a little out of control, especially in regards to Hermione. Just now, when he'd pressed his face to the top of her head, instead of focusing on her needs, he'd found himself wanting to press her against the garden wall and snog her senseless before leading her upstairs to his bedroom where he'd like to shag her senseless. She needed love and support not some randy git, but these days the randy git seemed always just below the surface, ready to ravage her at a moment's notice. It was embarrassing and annoying. He wished he could make everyone disappear for just one bloody hour, so he could tell her how he felt, not just spout 'I love you' after coming in his pants. He needed to tell her properly and then he could be a randy git. He sighed. She was killing him.

xXx

Upstairs in the shower, Hermione pressed her forehead to the cool tile and let the water wash over her. Ron was killing her. She didn't have a lot of sexual experience, but she had some, and it left her with the distinct awareness that two was definitely better than one. Something about all those funerals was making her desperate to feel alive. Being surrounded by attractive ginger men wasn't helping either. Why couldn't Ron just want her the way she wanted him? She sighed. Maybe he did. Maybe this was just grief and the lack of privacy. Maybe time would fix this. She just had to be patient. The problem was she didn't feel patient, she felt undone, and she wanted something solid to cling to but everything felt amorphous.

She sighed and turned off the water and toweled off before pulling on her bathrobe and going back to Ginny's room to get dressed. She put on her knickers and bra, irritated that even at the tightest band setting, her breasts didn't quite fill the cups anymore. She sighed and pulled on her jeans. There was a knock on the door.

"Hermione?" It was Fleur's voice.

"Come in," Hermione said, pleased that at least one person in this house knew to knock before entering.

Fleur came in, closing the door behind her. "Did I leave my socks in here?"

Hermione looked on the floor around the bed.

Ginny came in. "I'm thinking of heating up some of those pies people brought for dinner, what do you think?"

"Here are your socks," Hermione said, handing them to Fleur. "I can help with dinner, I just need to change this first," she said, touching the plaster on her neck.

Fleur frowned. "You still need a plaster on it?"

Hermione sighed. "It's still weeping. It's such a thin cut, even if it is cursed, I thought it would've completely closed by now."

"Let me see," Fleur said.

Ginny walked over to look too. "What happened?"

Hermione pealed the plaster off, exposing the long thin cut across her neck. "I was cut. It's not a big deal."

"Someone cut your throat," Ginny said, her face blanching. "That seems like a big deal."

"It's not deep," Hermione said.

"Deep enough," Fleur countered. "Tilt your head back."

Hermione complied.

Fleur shook her head. "Molly knows more about medicine than I do. Perhaps we should have her look at it."

"No," Hermione said. "I don't want to bother her."

"Actually," Ginny said, "I think Mum could use the bother. I'll just go get her." She was out the door before Hermione could protest.

"Great," Hermione muttered. She pulled on a T-shirt.

"We could just take you to St. Mungo's. That might be the best option anyway," Fleur said.

"Definitely not," Hermione said. "I'm not going to the hospital. It's fine. It just needs time."

xXx

Downstairs, Ginny found her mother in the parlor. She had knitting in her lap with her wand in her hand, but she was staring out the window instead of casting the spell to start the pattern.

"Mum," Ginny said. "Can you come upstairs and have a look at Hermione?"

"What?" Ron said, sitting up in the chair he'd been slouched in looking at a Quidditch magazine.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, getting off the sofa.

"Nothing," Ginny said, frowning at the two of them. "Calm down. Fleur just wants Mum to look at that cut on Hermione's neck."

"Why?" Ron said, getting to his feet.

"Because she wants her to," Ginny said. "Sit down. If we need you, I'll let you know."

Molly got to her feet. "My bag is in my room."

Ginny followed her upstairs.

xXx

A couple of minutes later, Hermione stood with her head tilted back again while Molly inspected the wound. Hermione tried very hard to keep her mind blank and not to think about Bellatrix standing behind her with the knife at her throat. An involuntary shiver ran through her.

"Alright dear," Molly said kindly. "You can put your head down." The older woman sighed. "I've got some numbing balm, that might help a bit with the tenderness, but a cursed wound just takes time to heal."

Hermione nodded. Harry's snake bite had taken weeks of changing bandages, but she didn't mention that. They hadn't told the story of the events at Godric's hollow to Ron's family, because it would have necessitated mentioning that Ron hadn't been with them, and none of them were ready to explain that. Of course, Bill and Fleur knew that Ron had left Harry and Hermione for several weeks, but they'd kept it to themselves. The three of them hadn't talked much about their time on the run at all. People seemed to focus on the last few days of the war. No one had yet asked where the three of them had been for the last nine months or what exactly they'd been doing. There was a brief recounting to Shacklebolt about the events at Malfoy Manor and breaking into Gringott's but that was the extent of their explanations.

Molly handed her a small tub of balm. "Put this around the cut, but not on it. It should help. And get some chocolate after dinner. That does as much good as anything for magical maladies."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks."

Molly squeezed her arm and looked her over and sighed. "Let's get some dinner in you, shall we?"

"That sounds good. I'll just put on a fresh plaster and be down in a minute."

Molly patted her shoulder and followed Fleur and Ginny out of the room.

xXx

Everyone was taking their seats when Hermione came down. She had a scarf tied around her neck again. This time she'd rolled and knotted it, so it covered the plaster, but didn't hang down at all. When she took her place next to Ron at the table, her hair was damp and there was a single droplet of water between the scarf and the neck of her T-shirt. He couldn't take his eyes off that drop of water. He had a desperate desire to lean over and suck it off her skin.

"Cottage pie, Ron?" his father said.

Ron looked up. "Wha—oh, yeah." He scooped a large portion on to his plate and handed the dish to Hermione. When she reached for it, the droplet slipped down her shirt and disappeared. Ron sighed with relief. She gave him a questioning look. "Dinner, am I right?"

"Yeah," she said, "this is great."

A quiet settled over the table while everyone ate.

Percy cleared his throat after a while and said, "Shacklebolt said the Aurors have cleared my flat, so it's safe for me to return."

Everyone looked up at him.

"It's been ransacked," he continued. "I'll need to clean up over there before I can move back in."

"We can help with that Perce," Charlie said.

"Yeah," George agreed. "Shouldn't take long to clean if we all set to. I'm still waiting for them to clear the shop."

"That would be great," Percy said. "I could really use the help."

"We've got funerals tomorrow," Ginny said, "But I can come after."

"Me too," Ron said. Harry and Hermione chimed in that they could go as well. Ron smiled at them. This was good, he thought, it was right that they should all come together to get things cleaned up. Besides, if Percy moved back to his flat that was one less person wandering around the Burrow and that meant things were getting back to normal or as normal as they could, given the circumstances. He hated that the new normal didn't include Fred, but there was nothing any of them could do about that.

His father had already returned to work. The Ministry was in dire straits and needed all the help it could get. Percy had received a letter that morning asking him back as well. Bill had returned to Gringott's, but he and Fleur were still staying at the Burrow. Ron assumed it was because his mother was still not herself and Fleur was largely running the kitchen to keep the family fed. He sighed. He loved his family, but he really wished the ones who had their own homes would just go back to them.


	4. Interference

That night Hermione had a hard time getting to sleep. The cut on her neck was irritating and tender. She was generally able to tune it out, but perhaps she'd caught up on enough sleep, that the irritation of it kept her awake. Her thoughts kept slipping back to Malfoy Manor and she kept deliberately thinking of something else. She began conjugating verbs in Ancient Runes.

The gray light of dawn was creeping into the room when she woke in a blind panic. Bellatrix was behind her with the knife and Greyback was in front of her. She was squeezed between them and he clawed her breasts and licked the side of her neck as Bellatrix slit her throat and called her a Mudblood. She was on her feet and running downstairs with the walnut wand gripped tightly in her hand before she was fully awake. She burst open the kitchen door and ran outside before dropping to her knees to retch against the back wall of the garden.

xXx

Ron gave up trying to sleep at dawn. He'd tossed and turned all night. When he went into the kitchen, Percy was staring out of the window over the sink. "Morning Perce," Ron said and reached for the tea pot. It was empty.

"Is there a reason your girlfriend is getting sick in the garden?"

Ron hurried to look out the window.

"Has she been doing that a lot?" Percy asked.

"What? No. I mean, I don't think so," Ron said.

Percy frowned at him. "Tell me you two have been careful."

"Careful about what?" Ron asked as he watched Hermione retch against the wall, and then it dawned on him what Percy meant. "Hey, we're not…we haven't…"

At first, Percy's frowned deepened and then his expression changed to one of concern. "Ron," he said gently. "I read the Ministry report about the goings on at Malfoy Manor. When she was separated from you and Harry, was she…interfered with?"

Ron's mouth dropped open. "No! Of course not. They only had her for like…twenty…" The realization that anything could have happened in those twenty minutes dawned on him. He knew Bellatrix had cast Crucio, but beyond hearing that and Hermione screaming, he had no idea what had gone on in that room. Surely, he would have noticed at Shell Cottage...but maybe not. He recalled Greyback's comments about her and felt sick as he pushed past Percy and went out the back door.

Hermione was sitting on the ground with her back against the wall and her wand in her hand when he reached her. She'd clearly cast a charm to clear away the sick since none was in evidence. "What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said. "Just sitting."

He frowned at her. "I saw you from the window."

"Oh," she said, but didn't offer any explanation.

"So, did Percy," Ron added.

"Great," she said. "What a nice way to start your day."

"Better than the way you started yours, I'd say."

She gave him a half smile.

"Why are you sick?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Bad dreams."

"So bad they made you vomit?"

She glared at him. "Clearly. Could we stop talking about it please, or I'm going to go again."

Ron squatted in front of her. "Percy thought…" He hesitated.

"What?" she asked.

"He thought I might've…that you could be, because he assumed that you and I were…but I said we hadn't…"

Hermione gave him confused look and then raised her eyebrows in realization. "Are you trying to say he thought I might be pregnant? Because he saw me vomit once? What is wrong with your family?"

Ron could feel his whole head go red. "Well, yeah, but when I said we hadn't…then he said…"

Hermione sat up straighter. "He said what?"

"He said he'd read the report on…you know…the Manor…he asked, if while we were separated, you'd been…" He swallowed hard. "Interfered with."

"Interfered with?" she said, frowning. "What a ridiculous way to put it. Only a man would say something so stupid."

He looked at her and forced himself to say the actual words. "Were you raped?"

"No," Hermione said. "I'm fairly certain that was part of Greyback's plan for me, but it didn't happen."

Ron ran a hand down his face. "I hate that bastard. I wish someone had managed to kill him in the battle."

"Me too," Hermione said, "but no one found a body, so I guess he's still out there."

Ron came forward on to his knees and sat back on his heels. "I'm sorry. I should have asked earlier."

"I would have told you," she said.

"Really?"

"Yes," she said. "I think I would have, if not immediately, then certainly the other night. I mean, I would've needed to say something, before we…" She made a kind of circular gesture between them. "If I'd been hurt that way."

Ron tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I'm glad you weren't."

"Me too," she said.

"It was awful enough as it was," Ron added.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asked. "We could go inside. I could make you some tea."

"That would be nice."

He stood and held out a hand to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, and didn't let go of her hand as they walked back to the house.

Percy was at the table when they walked into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows when they walked in.

"Not in the pudding club," Hermione said to him. "Just sick this morning. Not that it's any of your business."

"Then why mention it?" Percy asked.

"Because I know this family and you'd all be speculating by lunch if I don't nip it in the bud right now."

He laughed. "That's certainly true. It's impossible to keep a secret around here."

"Isn't that the truth," Ron said, setting a cup of tea in front of Hermione.

xXx

An hour later, they were attending their first funeral of the day with Harry and Ginny. Ron didn't know the man they were burying. He was a half-blood that worked in the kitchens at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron tried to pay attention but he found his mind wandering back to his earlier conversation with Hermione. Despite the grim topic, it had been the best conversation they'd had since before the battle. In comparison to recent days, it had been a pretty good morning, which was disheartening. He really needed to raise the bar on what constituted 'good.' Of course, it was hard to do that when most of his days were spent at funerals. He felt like an automaton at the receptions, standing next to the other three, shaking hands, saying the same sorts of things that he'd said before, often to some of the same people. The magical community was pretty small. Despite that, the other three seemed to bear up under the pressure of all this grief just fine. Harry was like a rock star. People just seemed to want to touch him and have him speak to them. Ginny stood at his side like she was born to the role. Meanwhile, Hermione stood in quiet elegance, speaking softly and compassionately to everyone as she shook their hands. If it hadn't been for the solemn circumstances, she could have been running for office. Ron watched her make a connection with person after person and couldn't help wondering if one day she really would stand for election.

xXx

Hermione stood next to Ron shaking hands with the attendees at the last funeral of the day. She was exhausted. The constant contact with strangers was incredibly draining. She didn't know how the others were managing it, but Harry seemed to be able to offer the same level of compassion to every person who walked up. If his plan had been to cement his place in the hearts of the entire magical community, he couldn't have chosen a better method. They loved him. They loved that he came to all the funerals, but without fanfare. They loved that he stayed to shake hands and speak to everyone who wanted to speak to him. If he decided to run for Minister of Magic tomorrow, she was sure they would have waved the age restriction without hesitation. She marveled at his composure. She was also impressed with Ginny. She stood next to Harry as a quiet reassuring presence. She shook everyone's hand, but let Harry take the lead on everything. He was the star and she was happy to let him shine. Ron too, seemed to know exactly what to say to the people who approached. He had a lot of his mother's natural warmth and his father's reassuring presence. In short, the other three handled all of this beautifully. Meanwhile, she felt stilted and awkward. She shook everyone's hand, repeating the same trite phrases over and over. She was rubbish at this. All she wanted to do was fall into bed and hide under the covers. She was somewhat disturbed to realize she wasn't sure which bed she was referring to, and had the sinking suspicion she was thinking of the bunk in the tent, which was, of course, long gone. She considered, for a moment, that in London, in her old attic bedroom, hidden under a complex concealment charm was her actual bed. She smiled warmly as an old witch reached for her hand. All that would have to wait.

xXx

After the last funeral of the day, they went back to the Burrow to change before heading to Diagon Alley to help clean Percy's flat. The Burrow was uncharacteristically quiet when they Apparated into the back garden.

Ginny looked at the house. "Is anyone home?"

"Dunno," Ron said. "Maybe they all went to Percy's."

"Is it possible we have the house to ourselves," Ginny said in a kind of gasping awe. She looked at Harry with undisguised desire. "Oh, please, let it be empty."

Ron and Hermione glanced nervously at each other, but then they heard Mr. Weasley come out of the chicken coop. He was carrying a basket of eggs. "Hullo," he said. "Your mum's just taking a cake out of the oven if you're hungry. The others are all at Percy's."

Ginny let out a quiet groan. "I'm going to go get changed."

"Me too," Hermione said and followed her inside.

"Hi Mum," Ginny said as they walked into the kitchen. She kissed her mother's cheek. "We're heading up to change."

"There's cake," her mother said.

"I'll get some when I come back down," Ginny said and headed upstairs.

Molly looked at Hermione. Hermione smiled. "I'll take a piece now."

Molly smiled weakly back at her and handed her a large piece on a small plate.

"I'm starving," Hermione said.

"I know," Molly fretted.

Hermione started to protest that she hadn't meant it seriously but Ron and Harry came in. Ron kissed his mother's cheek and took a piece of cake and handed it to Harry without asking if he wanted it, then he took a piece for himself. A moment later, he was extolling the virtues of said cake while shoveling it into his mouth.

Hermione finished her piece and went upstairs to change.

Ginny must have veered off into the bathroom. A couple of minutes later, she came into the room where Hermione was changing. She closed the door and leaned back against it. "I'm about to crawl out of my skin."

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed. "Really, because you seem to be handling everything in your stride."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny said. "I'm terrible at all of this. I just stand around at those funerals like an idiot saying the same things over and over. Meanwhile, it's impossible to get any time alone in this house and I feel like I might actually explode."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I've invaded your room."

"What? No," Ginny said. "I'm not talking about that. I'm happy to have you here." She pulled off her funeral robes and tossed them on her bed. "I'm talking about time with Harry." I haven't had any time alone with him since the night after the battle and it's starting to make me a little crazy."

"I know," Hermione said.

"I tried sneaking up there a few times this week, but every time I went out on the landing there was someone walking up or down the stairs. No matter the hour, someone in this house is always awake. It's infuriating."

"I know," Hermione commiserated.

Ginny pulled on a pair of jeans and flopped back on to her bed. "I'm so sick of being sad all the time. I just want a little escape. Is that so much to ask?"

"No. I think we'd all like that."

"Yeah, except Mum and Dad have each other and Bill and Fleur have each other and the rest of us are just rattling around in this house getting in each other's way." She huffed angrily and got up and yanked on a T-shirt. "The last time I had a decent night's sleep was next to Harry and I'm fairly certain that was the last good sleep he got. I swear, if I was of age, and had any money, the first thing I'd do is book a room at the inn."

Hermione snorted softly.

"What?"

"And the next day it would be all over the _Prophet_ that you two were seen at the Leaky Cauldron taking a room together."

"Fine," Ginny grumbled. "We'd stay in a Muggle hotel somewhere then. They work the same as an inn, right?"

"For the most part," Hermione said.

"I just want some time alone with him, a few of hours, for just us."

Hermione snorted. "At this point, I'd settle for ten minutes."

Ginny threw a pair of socks at her. "I'm not just talking about a shag. I feel like there are all these unfinished conversations we need to have."

Hermione sighed and tossed the socks back. "I know. We'll get there. The funerals won't last forever. Ten more days. We'll get Percy settled in his flat, he might even stay there tonight. Bill and Fleur will eventually go home. Charlie plans to go back to Romania soon. George…well, I don't know what George will do."

"I know," Ginny said. "Me either. Have you noticed he hasn't shaved since the day of Fred's funeral."

"Yeah, do you think he's growing a beard, or just can't be bothered?"

"I'm not sure," Ginny said. "But I think I'm going to ask him. I'm really worried about him. He barely eats anything and we have enough skinny people wandering around here."

Hermione frowned at her. "I'm eating."

"Not enough," Ginny said. "Harry either."

"We just need to get through the rest of the funerals. Ten more days. Ten more days and things will get better." She really wanted to believe that.

xXx

Percy's flat was crowded. With nine people working, it didn't take long to clean up the small, one-bedroom flat, despite the fact that it had been thoroughly vandalized. All the furniture and lamps were broken. Books were shredded and scattered about. Everything had been pulled out of the kitchen cabinets and dumped in the floor. The bedding was torn and "Blood Traitor" had been painted in what looked like blood in large letters across one wall of the parlor.

When Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny arrived at Percy's flat in Diagon Alley the others were already repairing things and cleaning up. Bill and Fleur had almost finished getting the blood off the wall. When they were done, they went to get food. Ron and Harry helped George and Percy repair furniture. Hermione and Ginny helped Charlie clean the kitchen. In less than an hour, they were done, and the flat looked fairly normal. Bill and Fleur returned with pizzas and beer.

"I'll have to buy new bedding," Percy said. "And restock the kitchen."

Everyone tucked into dinner. There wasn't a big enough table or enough seating in the small flat, so everyone just picked a spot and sat down. After they had all eaten their fill and started on second and third beers, Bill and Fleur decided to head back to the Burrow.

After they'd left, George said, "I wish the Aurors would clear the shop. I'd really like to get in there."

"They should get to it soon," Percy said. "They started with homes of Ministry employees because they really need all hands on deck right now."

"I know," George said. He rubbed his head. "I should get a haircut."

"Me too," Percy said. "I feel like I'm starting to resemble a shrub."

Harry snorted beer out of his nose and everyone laughed.

"Hermione can do it," Ron said. "She's been doing ours all year."

"You know how to cut hair?" Charlie asked her.

"I know a trimming spell," Hermione clarified. "It's not like I'm a barber. I can't do different styles. I can only trim the cut you have now."

"Would you mind?" George asked. "I'm not ready to go to the barber. He never could tell Fred and I apart and I'm not up for explaining how that won't be a problem from now on." The others all looked sadly at each other.

"Of course," Hermione said.

"Alright then," George said, getting to his feet.

"Does this mean you're going to shave too?" Ginny asked.

"No," George said. "I'm growing a beard. Makes looking in the mirror a tad easier."

Everyone exchanged sad glances.

"Stop," George said. "Fred would hate all this moping about. I'm not going to stand here and pretend this is easy, because it's not, it's…" He sighed. "But I'm not the one who's dead, so it seems wrong not to get on with living." He pulled a stool over from under the bar that separated the kitchen from the parlor. "Come on then, Granger, give me a trim."

Hermione got to her feet and George sat on the stool. She took her time, running her fingers through his hair and looking carefully to see how it grew and to make sure it would look right considering he was missing an ear.

"Mmm," George said. "Ronnie is a lucky man, she has magic fingers this one."

Hermione swatted him softly on the shoulder. "Stop. I have to see how your hair grows or I'll botch the spell."

"I don't recall you ever running your fingers through my hair like that before you trimmed it," Ron grumbled.

"That's because I know how your hair grows," Hermione said.

"Well, it's divine," George purred. "Percy you should ask her to do you next."

"Stop," Hermione muttered again, glancing at the scowl on Ron's face. "Or I'll shave you bald."

George smirked and she raised her wand and flicked it. "Ah," George said and quickly ran his hand over his head, relieved to find he still had hair. He slipped off the stool.

"That looks good," Ginny said. She looked at Harry. "You're a bit shaggy too."

"Yeah, alright," Harry said, taking George's place on the stool.

Hermione's wand was up immediately and a moment later, Harry's hair was trimmed.

"That didn't seem as fun," Charlie said, "Budge over, Harry. Now me." Harry moved and Charlie took his seat.

"I've trimmed Harry's hair so many times, I don't even have to think about it," Hermione explained.

Charlie gave her a big grin. "But not mine."

She gave him a sharp look, but carefully inspected his hair anyway, using her fingers to see how it fell. Charlie let out a happy moan, winking at Ron as he did so. Ron's face grew redder.

Hermione sighed and flicked her wand and Charlie's hair was neatly trimmed. Percy happily took his place. "Since you offered," he said.

"Did I offer?" Hermione asked. She frowned at Ron, who seemed practically apoplectic.

"Wait," Percy said. "My hair is different. Do you know how to trim curly hair?"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "Seriously? You're asking me if I know what to do with curly hair?"

"Oh," Percy said, blushing slightly. "Right. No. I suppose…well, carry on."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but moved around him inspecting his hair carefully.

Percy closed his eyes and smiled at the feel of her fingers on his scalp. "This is nice."

"Oh, for goodness sake," Hermione mumbled.

Ron reached for another Dragon Scale. As Hermione shifted in front of him to look at the back of Percy's head, Ron said, "Those aren't your jeans."

Hermione didn't look at him. "No. They're an old pair of Ginny's." She raised her wand and cast the spell to trim Percy's hair. "You're all set," she told him.

"That looks really good, Percy," Ginny commented, glancing at Ron.

"Why aren't you wearing your own jeans?" Ron asked and took another gulp of beer.

Hermione cast a spell to clean up all the hair on the floor. "These fit better."

"You mean tighter," Ron said.

Hermione could feel herself blush. She was conscious that everyone was watching them. "I'm going to go."

"Why?" Ron said, getting to his feet.

"I'm tired," Hermione said, and started for the door.

"All I said—" Ron started as he reached for her arm.

She yanked her arm away from him and went out.

"Hey," he said, following her.

"Ron!" he heard Harry call behind him, but he ignored him, and followed Hermione outside and on to the street.

"Oi," he shouted after her.

She turned around. "What!" she shouted.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you!"

"Why, all I said was—"

"All you said, all you said," she sputtered back at him. "You don't have the right to say anything. You volunteer me to trim everyone's hair and then whinge about how I do it. You spend months complaining about my clothes not fitting, I wear one pair of jeans that actually fit and you tell me they're too tight. Too tight! Are you serious? What is wrong with you?"

"I…nothing…I mean…I don't…you were…they…why did you have to…"

"Me? Me? You know what, Ron? Fuck you!" She Disapparated.

Ron stood in stunned silence. Hermione Granger had just told him to fuck off. He'd made Hermione say fuck and not in a good way.

He looked down at the bottle of beer in his hand and threw it as hard as he could down the alley, smashing it against a brick wall. He'd had about six of the bloody things and was now too drunk to Disapparate. Unwilling to face Harry or his family, he walked down to the Leaky Cauldron to take the Floo back to the Burrow.

When he stepped out of the kitchen fireplace, the house was dark. It was after midnight and clearly, Bill and Fleur and his parents had all retired for the evening. He went upstairs to Ginny's room and quietly knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again and then opened the door a crack. "Hermione," he whispered, but there was no answer. He opened the door all the way. She wasn't in there.

He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. He'd promised himself he was never going to comment on her weight again and he'd gone and done it. Where was she? He dug the Deluminator out of his pocket and stared at. "Say my name," he whispered to the universe hoping she'd hear.


	5. Daily Life Seems Surreal

Hermione landed in her parents' back garden. She didn't know where else to go. She sat down on the garden bench next to the shed and pulled her knees up to her chin. If she went inside the house, she could sleep in her own bed, a bed she'd never shared with anyone, in a room she'd never shared with anyone. It was all hers, if she could only go inside. She stared at the house and knew she wouldn't be sleeping in that bed tonight. It wasn't safe, and even if it was, it was too daunting. She couldn't face the house tonight. A gentle rain began to fall. She cast an umbrella charm and considered her options. She could return to the Burrow and face Ron, or if she waited until everyone had gone to bed, she might get away with only having to deal with Ginny's questions. The likelihood that she could sneak in without waking Ginny was pretty slim. She was so tired. The rain was starting to fall harder, so she cast the same wards she used to cast around their tent and then went into the shed. Looking around she saw the work bench covered in old terra cotta pots and hand tools. Rakes and hoes were piled in one corner and buckets and an old push mower were in a another. She sighed and started cleaning. There was a radio on a shelf. She wondered if it's batteries still worked. She turned it on and was delighted when the dial lit up. It was set to Radio One. She smiled as a Depeche Mode song began to play. Her mother had loved them, probably still did, on the other side of the world. She cast charms to remove the dirt and cobwebs, and then put the tools away by hand. When she was done the workbench was clean and clear. There was a pile of old beach towels and rags underneath it. She cast a cleaning charm on those and pulled out a big towel with a Guinness toucan on it to use as a blanket and then piled the other towels and rags up on the work bench and transfigured them into a thin mattress and pillow. Her intention was to sleep for a few hours and then go back to the Burrow. The radio was a comfort. She awoke at dawn.

xXx

Harry and Ginny were both worried when they arrived back at the Burrow moments after Ron. After a quick check of her room, they both went up to Ron's fifth floor bedroom, hoping to find Ron and Hermione working it out, but each knowing that wasn't likely.

Ron was sitting dejected on his bed staring at the Deluminator. He got up when they came in.

"Where is she?" Harry asked without preamble.

Ron shrugged. Harry and Ginny stood there glaring at him. "What?" he said. "She didn't say where she was going."

"Why were you such a prat tonight?" Ginny asked.

Ron shrugged.

"Are you really that insecure?" Ginny said, folding her arms. "Why do you let George and Charlie get your goat? You know she wasn't flirting with them."

"Didn't say she was," Ron grumbled.

"And what was that comment about the jeans? I was lucky to still have them. They look great on her. Why on earth would you say they're too tight?"

Ron shrugged again.

Harry paced back and forth across the room. "We need to find her," he said.

"She probably just went to her parents' place."

"Do you know the address?" Harry asked.

"Somewhere in London," Ron mumbled.

"Somewhere in London," Harry repeated. "Well, that's really helpful. Somewhere in a city with millions of people in it. Fantastic."

"It's not like you know where she lives either," Ron muttered.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Harry shouted.

"Well, she's not mine either!" Ron shouted back at him.

Harry grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "Then what the hell were you doing in her bed the other night?"

Ron grabbed Harry's wrists and Ginny cast Protego and they popped apart as the shimmering magical shield formed between them.

"I can't believe you're doing this again," Harry said.

"I'm standing right here," Ron said. "She's the one that left."

Harry shook his head. "That's just…you're unbelievable." He grabbed his pillow off the cot. "I'm sleeping on the sofa. He stormed out of the room and ran into George, Percy, and Charlie walking upstairs.

"What's going on?" Percy said.

"Nothing," Harry said and pushed past him to go downstairs.

George looked up to see Ginny standing on the fifth-floor landing.

"Hiya Gin," Charlie said.

She shook her head at him and went down to her own room.

xXx

Just to be sure, Ron checked some of Hermione letters to see if she'd written out her address on any of the envelopes, but she hadn't. All an owl really needed was Hermione Granger, Heathgate, London which is all he'd ever written on an envelope to her, but the Knight Bus required an exact address and he didn't have one. He spent all night in the window seat of his bedroom looking out over the garden, hoping he would see Hermione appear or at least hear her say his name through the Deluminator. She didn't, which wasn't surprising, since she'd gone weeks without saying it the last time he'd needed the Deluminator to find her. He wondered where she was. He hoped, if she'd gone back to her parents' place, that it was safe. At least the sun was rising. When his dad got up, he'd ask him about a location spell. He had to do something. He pressed his forehead to the window and saw her pop into the back garden. He'd never run down the stairs so fast in his life. He almost tackled Percy who managed to dodge at the very last second.

"Bloody hell, Ron!" Percy shouted, but Ron was already out the door.

He skidded to a stop when he reached Hermione.

"I'm sorry," He gasped. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." She stood there blinking at him in the morning light. He tried to read her expression and found he couldn't, which was disconcerting. "Actually," he sputtered. "I do know. I'm a giant git, and you don't deserve that."

"No, I don't," she agreed.

"Right," he said, nudging a rock on the ground with the toe of his shoe. "Where did you sleep last night?"

She looked at him and quirked her lips as if trying to decide whether to answer, and then said. "In my parents' garden shed."

He looked at her in confusion. "You slept in a garden shed, rather than come back here," he said, sorting it out in his mind. _I am the world's biggest git_ , he thought.

"Yes."

A pair of magpies were chattering to each other in one of the apple trees. Hermione looked at the black and white birds. Ron knew they'd always been her favorites.

"But…" Ron said.

"Look," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "We've been on this roller coaster with Harry—"

"We've been on what?" Ron asked.

"Roller…never mind. This quest with Harry has been going on…well, for years really, but then this last year in such close quarters, I think we got…I don't know…confused maybe, but now it's done and it's hard to know what to do next, because for so long…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's just get through the funerals. If I could stay here until the funerals are done—"

"You can stay here forever," Ron said.

She looked up at him. "I can't. I have to figure out what I'm going to do with myself. I need to find a job, do something about a place to live, figure out how to be an adult now that the war is over. It's weird because I honestly didn't think—"

"You'd have to do that stuff." Ron finished for her.

"No, I guess I expected—" she said.

"To be dead," he said. "I know. I'm surprised every morning when I wake up."

She nodded. "Me too."

"Okay," Ron said. "Okay. Last night, I was a prat, I know that. And I know that we have to get through the bloody funerals and decide how to be adults. And I know that you can't live here forever. But can we just…just for a little while…can we just let all that go. When the funerals are done, can we just take a few weeks and just...I don't know…take a break. I feel like I've got all this stuff buzzing around in my head and I can't get it sorted because it's just too much."

She bit her bottom lip and looked at him. "Fine," she said. "We'll just back it up."

He let out a relieved sigh that she understood. "We should get changed. The first funeral is early today." She nodded and headed indoors.

xXx

When Hermione walked into the kitchen, Harry and Ginny were sitting at the table with her parents and Percy. Harry stood. "You're back."

She nodded. "Yes."

"Can I speak to you for minute?" Harry said, as Ron came in behind her.

"Sure," Hermione said. It was clear from Harry's tone that he was upset, and it was equally clear that he was only talking to her. She glanced at Ron as she followed Harry out into the garden. He went through the gate and up the hill to the orchard. Hermione sighed. If he wanted to be that far from the house he likely expected to do some shouting. When they were surrounded by apple trees he turned to face her.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" he started.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should have told you where I was going. I just didn't know I was going there until I was doing it."

Harry shook his head. "I want the address."

"What?"

"I want the address to your parents' house. I can't have you running off and not know where you are. It's terrifying. I didn't sleep a wink last night and I doubt Ron or Ginny did either."

"Fine. I'll give you the address, but it's just for you. Don't go sharing it."

He frowned at her. "It's as bad as all that?"

She shrugged. "He's overwhelmed, which is completely understandable given everything that's happened. He wants things to go back to the way they were before the war, before all these funerals, when things were…"

"Simpler?" Harry guessed.

"I guess," Hermione said. "I understand the impulse."

"Well, I don't," Harry said, firmly. "We won. I don't want to go backwards. I want to finish these funerals, get that situation with Gringott's sorted, and then talk to Shacklebolt about what my options are."

"Your options for what?" Hermione asked.

"A job," Harry said. "I can't live here forever. I'm guessing they'll reopen Hogwarts at some point and Gin will finish school, but then, well, I want to have something to offer her when she's done. You know?"

Hermione smiled at him. "I do." She sighed. "But Ron's not there. He wants a break, so I guess we're on a break, although to be honest, I'm not sure what that means."

"What about what you want?" Harry asked.

She felt tears threaten. "I can't have what I want. Now, I just need to figure out what I can have."

Harry hugged her and she let herself cry for a minute on his shoulder. "We're going to be okay," he whispered. "We've handled rougher stuff than this."

She nodded and stepped back, wiping her face on her sleeve. "We should get back. The first funeral is soon."

"Yeah," Harry said and they walked back to the house.

xXx

When they got back to the kitchen, Molly was cooking, not porridge, but eggs and bacon and mushrooms and toast. It wasn't long until the whole family was assembled and eating. Hermione was in her usual seat beside Ron. He'd said he wanted a break and she'd said they could back it up, but as she sat there amid his exceedingly noisy family, she realized she had no idea what either one of them meant. Did he want a break from the stress or a break from her or both? When she'd said they could back it up, what had she meant? Back it up to where in their relationship? They'd been inching toward each other for some time now. How far back did he want to go?

Ron leaned over and whispered. "You're not eating." She looked down at her plate and realized she hadn't touched anything. She didn't even recall putting the food on her plate. Had he done that? "You've got to eat," he continued. "We've got a long day of funerals in front of us."

She sighed and picked up her fork.

xXx

Attending the funerals had become like a job. Other people's grief became a reason to get out of bed, get dressed, and leave the house. Her responsibility was to get Ron and herself to the funerals in one piece and then stand around saying the things she was supposed to say, shake hands, and look somber. Depending on the popularity of who was being buried, the four funerals took between six and ten hours. In a bizarre way, the funerals had become the easiest part of her day. It was negotiating the rest of it that was difficult.

The day after they'd all gathered to clean it, Percy had returned to his flat. Bill and Fleur had gone back to Shell Cottage once Molly resumed feeding her family. Harry had moved into the room they vacated. Hermione continued to share with Ginny. Not knowing what else to do, she did what she'd always done, she read. She'd already read everything she'd brought with her in her beaded bag, so she went through the Weasley's books, which were thankfully plentiful. In addition to a lot of history (both Muggle and Magical) the Weasley house was full of spell books. The books mostly concerned domestic spells, but there was also a good selection of defensive magic books. Hermione started working her way through the domestic spell books. She'd had enough of defensive spells for a while. When she wasn't reading, she steeped herself in everyday magical living in ways she'd never had the opportunity to do before. She learned more cooking spells, more gardening spells, more knitting spells, more cleaning spells, and more healing spells. Anything Mrs. Weasley was willing to teach, she was willing to learn. Ginny taught her how to feed the animals, collect eggs, and milk the cow. She stayed as busy as possible, helping to do whatever needed doing in the desperate hope to fall into bed at the end of the day so exhausted that she would sleep, preferably without dreaming. It didn't work. Most nights she woke up at least once from a nightmare, they ranged in intensity from sitting up in bed, to screaming, to standing with her wand in her hand. At least she hadn't had another dream bad enough to send her running into the garden to empty her stomach. On the nights she managed not to have a nightmare, Ginny often had one, so they were up anyway.

xXx

Ron and his siblings that were still at home took turns taking long walks in the countryside with their mother in the afternoons before his father got home. When it wasn't his turn, Ron did chores. He did them without being asked and without complaint. Sometimes Harry or George would help but he never asked them to. He and his father cleaned out the broom shed and reorganized his dad's shop. Ron repaired the chicken coop and then the pig pen, not just patch jobs, but proper sturdy repairs. He degnomed the garden, but mostly, he chopped wood. He wanted his parents to have enough wood for the entire winter. He generally worked three axes at a time. He swung one and two were charmed to chop when he did. It was hot work. His goal was to be able to fall into bed exhausted every night so that he could sleep, preferably without dreaming. He wasn't very successful. Several times a week, nightmares woke him. He'd taken to Impreturbing his door at night and he was fairly certain that Harry and Hermione and possibly George and his parents were doing the same thing. He thought this, because he never heard anything but often after a nightmare, when he went down to the kitchen for a cup of Chamomile tea, someone else was already up. Unfortunately, it was never Hermione. He hoped that it was because she was sleeping through the night, but he suspected it was because she and Ginny stayed in their room talking to each other when one of them had a nightmare.

xXx

Harry didn't know what to do with Ron and Hermione. They weren't fighting, but they were definitely being weird. They attended the funerals with him and Ginny and sat together. They kept their same seats at the kitchen table too, but otherwise they didn't spend any time with each other. Ron was a chore machine. He seemed hellbent on repairing everything that needed even the slightest bit of work around the house and he was chopping wood like he was expecting an ice age. Hermione was in full sponge mode. She'd asked Molly about every imaginable domestic spell like she was planning to buy her own plot of land in the country any day now. He'd seen her milking the cow yesterday morning. He shook his head, he didn't understand it, but Hermione's new fascination with country life had left Ginny with more time on her hands and that was only good for Harry. He'd missed Ginny so much during the last year, it was such a relief to be back with someone who understood him in a way that no one else did. Ginny was such a joy to be around. Despite being very sad about Fred, she continued to have such good energy and was such a fierce spirit, not to mention, she was ridiculously beautiful and snogged like a dream. She shagged like a dream too, but that had been impossible to repeat given that the Burrow was the least private place in the universe.

xXx

The thirty-sixth funeral was the last of the day and not widely attended. Only his fellow Hogwarts professors and the remaining members of The Order of the Phoenix attended Snape's funeral. Harry had suggested he be buried in Godric's Hollow in a quiet corner of the cemetery. At least then he could be in the same cemetery as Lily. Harry felt like he could give that to Snape. McGonagall delivered the eulogy. As she was finishing up, Harry saw out of the corner of his eye that Narcissa and Draco were there, standing among the headstones away from everyone else. He glanced at Hermione. She had her eyes on McGonagall and hadn't noticed. Harry caught Ron's eye and glanced in the direction of Narcissa and Draco. Ron looked and then raised his eyebrows at Harry. McGonagall finished speaking and everyone stood to begin the procession past the grave to toss in the white roses, which is when Hermione realized Draco and his mother were there. Harry could see her posture stiffen. Ron put his hand on the small of her back and whispered something in her ear.

After everyone processed by the grave, generally the four of them stood to the side and shook hands and spoke to people, but this time, Ron said, "I'm taking her home." Hermione had a glazed expression and was trembling.

"Go," Harry said.

Ron raised his wand and Disapparated with Hermione. It was only the second time he'd ever taken her side-along and she didn't even seem aware it was happening.

xXx

By the time Ron and Hermione came into the Burrow's kitchen, she was shaking so hard she could barely stand. Ron got her seated on the bench at the table.

George came in from the parlor. "What's wrong?"

"Can you get a her a cup of tea and put a shot of Ogden's in it?" Ron said, as he took a seat sideways next to Hermione and wrapped his arms around her. "You're safe," he whispered. "We're home and everything is fine. I've got you."

George pulled his wand and got out the kettle. A minute later he was handing Ron a cup of tea.

"Aright," Ron said, holding the cup for Hermione. "Have a sip of this." She reached for it but her hands were still shaking, so he held on to it too. She clenched her eyes closed. "You're fine," he repeated. "Look around. You're at the Burrow, in the kitchen, sitting at the table. I'm right here with you."

She opened her eyes and nodded.

"Yes," Ron said.

She was on her second cup of tea before she could manage to stop trembling. Harry and Ginny and his parents returned. Harry went immediately to Ron and Hermione. Hermione pressed her face against Harry's stomach and he kissed the top of her head. The three of them held on to each other.

Molly made more tea and set the pot and a tray of cups on the table. She opened a packet of biscuits and set them out too.

"I'm so sorry, about Narcissa and Draco being there," Arthur said, taking a seat at the table. "No one knew they were planning to attend. I would have warned you."

"It's alright," Hermione said quietly. "I shouldn't be so upset. It's not as though either of them really did anything. They just stood there watching." She pressed a hand over her mouth.

Ron rested his forehead against her ear.

Hermione closed her eyes again and blew out a shaky breath. "I should go get changed," she said. Harry stepped back and Ron got up. She got to her feet. "I'm sorry for being so…dramatic. I'm fine."

"You weren't—" Ron said.

"I was," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to go get changed."

"Speaking of that," Molly said, "All of you bring down your laundry. I think those funeral robes need a good wash. They've been charmed enough."

Hermione nodded and slipped upstairs.

"Well, go on then," Molly said to the others. "Get changed and bring your laundry out back."

"I should get to work," Arthur said.

"Alright dear," his wife said, patting his chest. He leaned down to kiss her before taking the Floo to the Ministry.

Everyone else trudged upstairs to change except George, who went to drag the laundry tubs outside for his mother.


	6. Laundry and Potions

May had been exceptionally warm for England. Hermione lamented that she didn't have shorts with her. She was tired of wearing jeans. She'd only brought three short-sleeved T-shirts on the Horcrux hunt and all of them needed washing.

Ginny was pulling on a Weird Sisters T-shirt on the other side of the room.

Hermione sighed and rolled up the sleeves on a long-sleeved button down. She knew she had summer clothes in London, but the Aurors still hadn't cleared her parents' house. Not that she could bring herself to go inside anyway. Somehow going inside and seeing it empty without them would make their absence final. She knew that was ridiculous, their absence had been final for months now, but she wasn't ready to face the finality of their empty house. She sighed again and picked up her beaded bag and went downstairs.

Ron was lugging a big bag down from his room. "Aren't you going to be hot in that?" he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "All my T-shirts are dirty and I don't have any shorts with me."

"Oh," Ron said. He held out his hand. "You want me to take that down to Mum?"

"No, I'll do it," she said and continued downstairs.

Outside, George was adding soap to the laundry tubs while Molly sorted clothes.

"Mum," Ron said. "I've cast fifty cleaning charms on my bed, but it still smells faintly of ghoul. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Why didn't you say so before?" his mother said. "Go get it and bring it out to lay in the sunshine. That'll take the ghoul scent right out. I'm so sorry I didn't think to do that sooner."

"It's alright," Ron said, and went back inside.

"Do you have a smaller tub, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked her.

"Whatever for, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Um—," Hermione started awkwardly.

"Hermione has fancy bras and knickers like Fleur does," Ginny commented as she came over with her laundry.

"Oh, don't worry dear, if I can do Fleur's laundry, I can do yours," Molly said.

"It's not that. I just don't want to trouble you," Hermione said.

"It's no trouble," Molly said. "I just won't run them through the mangle."

"Well, alright then," Hermione said.

"Here you go, Mum," Ron said dragging over his pillows and his mattress. "Where should I put them."

"Just drape the feather bed over the line, dear, and hang the pillows."

"Mum," Ron said, tugging on the old, sagging clothesline. "This line needs tightening."

"I've asked your father to do it a million times," his mother said.

"I'll get it," Ron said and handed his feather bed to Hermione. "Hold this a second, will you? George give me a hand with this." There were six sets of posts with long clotheslines slung between them. Ron and George got on either end of the first one and tightened all the slack out of the line.

Hermione held his mattress while they worked. It did smell faintly of ghoul, but it also smelled faintly of Ron. It was a disturbing combination. She was very relieved when he retrieved it and slung it over the line. Then he and George proceeded to tighten up the rest of the clotheslines, while Hermione helped Molly start the laundry. Harry brought his laundry down and started sorting it into piles.

Two of the posts needed to be replaced, so it took Ron and George a while to finish getting the clotheslines tightened. They were almost done when Hermione started hanging her laundry on the second set of lines. As she was hanging two pair of ice blue knickers next to a matching bra, George grinned and said, "Did Fleur leave some of her unmentionables here?"

Ron snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Those are Hermione's, you can tell by the little bows. Hold up that end, George."

But they had all stopped what they were doing and were looking at him. Hermione was red-faced with her mouth open. She looked appalled.

"What?" Ron said, looking around. He felt his ears go hot. "We were gone the better part of a year. Did you think we never did laundry?"

Molly cleared her throat. "Of course, you did, dear."

"George, hold up your end!" Ron said crossly. George put his shoulder under the post and pulled, so Ron could cast the spell to anchor it.

Hermione finished hanging her laundry as quickly as possible before retreating back inside.

xXx

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon reading in the window seat in Ginny's room. There was a slight breeze blowing through the open window cooling the room somewhat. She took a deep breath, and tried to focus on the book in her lap, but her mind kept slipping back to Ron's comment. What he'd said wouldn't have bothered her so much, she decided, if they'd actually done what everyone thought they'd done. She sighed. Unbidden her pile of torn and bloody clothes on the floor of Shell Cottage came back to her. She shook her head to clear the image.

Ron tapped on the door jamb. "Hey," he said. "I was cleaning my room and found these and thought you might want them." He held out a short stack of clothes to her. "They're my old Canons T-shirts. They're way too small for me now, but I reckon they'll fit you. I know you're not a fan, but it's better than having to wear long sleeves when it's so warm."

"Thanks," she fingered the collar of one of the T-shirts. They were all a worn faded orange, clearly much loved. "Since when do you clean your room?"

Ron shrugged and sat on the other end of the window seat. "Dunno. Just need to keep busy, I guess."

She nodded. "I've noticed."

"Yeah," Ron said, looking out the window. "There's always something that needs doing around here."

"Right," she said, and picked up the top shirt and held it up. "This should fit."

"Good," Ron said, standing. "Listen, I'm sorry about that comment earlier about the knickers. I don't know what possessed me to say it out loud."

Hermione shrugged. "You were right though. We know all kinds of intimate details about each other, and Harry, that friends don't normally know."

"Right," Ron said. "Well, I think I'll get some more wood chopped before Dad gets home."

"Okay," she said. After Ron left, she considered what he'd said about cleaning his room and went and got her beaded bag. She hadn't been through it since they'd been at the Burrow and it was a mess inside. She carefully began removing items and laying them out on her bed and categorizing stacks of books on the floor.

A little while later, Ginny and her mother came in carrying baskets of laundry.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said. "I should have come down and gotten my clothes."

"Don't be silly, dear," Molly said. "What's all this?"

Hermione looked around at the piles of stuff all over what she considered her side of the room. "Oh, I've been cleaning out my bag."

"That must be quite the extension charm," Molly said, clearly impressed.

Hermione smiled at the compliment. "Well, I didn't know what all we'd need on the run, so I basically packed everything I could think of."

"Very sensible," Molly said, picking up a potion bottle.

"Those are all empty," Hermione said. "I thought I'd clean them, take the labels off, and put them in your cabinet to be reused."

"Alright," Molly said, sifting through the bottles. "You seem to have gone through an awful lot of Essence of Dittany and Blood Replenishing Potion."

"Lots of cuts and scrapes living rough," Hermione said lightly.

"Yes." Molly frowned. "Well, I'll let you get back to it," she said tightly and hurried out of the room.

Ginny looked at Hermione. "What was that about?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, as she picked up some books to put back in her bag.

"Mum looked upset just now," Ginny stepped over the stacks and poked through the empty potion bottles her mother had been looking at. "Oh," she said softly.

"What?" Hermione said.

Ginny held up a small pink bottle.

"Oh," Hermione said. "That's not what it looks like."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "The label says contraceptive potion?"

"Well, it is, but…it has other uses. If you take two drops a day, every day, its stops you having a period."

Ginny looked at the bottle in her hand. "Really?"

"I didn't want to deal with bleeding three days a month. We were living rough. Constantly moving. It was easier to take the potion."

Ginny nodded. "That makes sense." She worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"It's not like we were camping for fun," Hermione said.

"Of course not," Ginny said.

Hermione pressed a hand to her forehead. "Now your mum thinks I'm some kind of—"

"I'm sure she doesn't," Ginny hastened to say. "Besides, you're all grown. What you did or didn't do out in the woods is no one's business. The important thing is that you survived and Harry prevailed and the war is over now. You're all home and safe. That's what matters."

"Right," Hermione said, but she had the sinking sensation Ginny was saying all that to convince herself that it didn't matter, because she thought something had gone on.

"I'm going to go get some pumpkin juice and see if Harry wants to toss the Quaffle around," Ginny said.

"Have fun," Hermione said with forced cheer.

xXx

That night at dinner, Hermione felt very self-conscious. She had just about talked herself into calming down, when during a lull in the conversation, Mr. Weasley said, "So, where did you three go after you left the wedding?"

Ron, Harry, and Hermione glanced at each other, before Ron said, "Hermione took us all to London."

"What do you mean, Hermione took you?" George said.

"Double side-along," Ron said, proudly. "Yeah, she can do that."

"Really?" Mr. Weasley said. "Extraordinary."

Mrs. Weasley made a sort of strangled tutting noise.

"Where in London?"

"Tottenham Court Road," Hermione said. "I used to go to the theater there with my parents. It was just the first place that popped into my head."

"You didn't plan this out ahead of time?" Mr. Weasley said.

Harry laughed. "You think we planned what to do if Bill and Fleur's wedding was attacked by Death Eaters? I don't know about Ron, but I was pretty surprised to find myself in London."

"Shocked is pretty much how I felt. I mean, I didn't even know she could do that, but thank goodness she can, because I'm not sure how this whole last year would have worked if she couldn't," Ron said.

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said. "That's an unusual skill. Especially in one so young."

Hermione could feel herself blush. "It came as somewhat of a shock to me that first time too. I just knew we had to get out of there."

"Ah, well, jolly good then," Mr. Weasley said with a smile, but Mrs. Weasley didn't seem so chipper about it. "So then where did you go?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Grimmauld Place," Harry answered, "but after we went into the Ministry, we couldn't go back there."

"That's when we started camping," Ron said.

"Right," Mr. Weasley said.

"I can't believe you went into the Ministry," George said.

"That's what got you on the Most Undesirable List," Mr. Weasley said. "Well, Hermione anyway. Harry was already on it."

"I can't believe they didn't put me on the list," Ron groused. "I was there too."

"Ah," Hermione said, "but you did it in that righteous, pure-blood way, so it was okay."

Harry snorted and choked on his pumpkin juice. Ginny smacked his back as he coughed.

"Truth is," Ron said, "no one saw me."

"Thank goodness," Mr. Weasley said. "Otherwise, we would have been in a world of trouble. So, after that, you were in the woods?"

"Yeah," Ron said, feeling awful that he'd risked his family's safety like that.

"When did you break into Gringott's?" George asked.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all glanced at each other again.

"George we're not going to discuss that," Mr. Weasley said.

"Come on," George said. "It's just family here. We all know they did it. Rumor is they escaped on a dragon. Now that's a story I want to hear."

"George," Mrs. Weasley said. "You know they can't talk about it until that whole situation is resolved."

George frowned. "All the interesting stuff, they can't talk about."

"George," Mr. Weasley said. "Let it go."

"Let it go? Fred died for this cause and we still can't get the whole story. Seriously? What have you three been doing for the last nine months? Who slit Hermione's throat? Why does Harry have that ghastly scar on his arm? And what's Ron hiding? He never takes his shirt off anymore, not even when he's chopping wood on a hot day."

"Calm down, George," Charlie said.

"Don't tell me to calm down," George said hotly.

Hermione stood. "Excuse me," she stepped from behind the bench and went into the garden.

"Bloody hell, George," Ron said and went after her.

xXx

"Hey," Ron called after Hermione. "Stay inside the wards."

She stopped at the garden gate. "I can't stay. I need to go."

"No," Ron said, catching up to her. "No, you don't."

"I can't stay. They need answers. I know they do, but I can't."

"It's okay," Ron said, putting his arms around her. "You don't have to tell them anything. It's none of their bloody business, is it?"

"George is right though," Hermione said. "Fred and a lot of other people died and they deserve answers." She shook her head. "I just…"

He held her tighter and she pressed her face into his chest and clutched his shirt. "You don't have to. We're not even supposed to talk about this stuff. We're under a gag order for the Gringott's thing, so we just extend that over everything else until we're ready."

"What if I'm never ready?" Hermione said into his shirt.

"Then we don't talk about it, simple as that," he said and kissed the top of her head. He loved the way her hair smelled and the way it felt against his cheek. "It's going to be alright. We just need more time. It'll be fine."

"I want to go home," she said.

"I know," he said. "I know."

xXx

Back inside the house, Harry sighed. "Look, I know you all want answers. You deserve answers and I wish I could give them to you, but the truth is, we're under a gag order for most of what you want to know and the stuff we could tell you, well…" He shook his head. "We just aren't ready to talk about. This whole last year has been agonizing and painful and until all three of us are ready to talk, none of us are talking. I'm sorry, but that's how it has to be." He stood and went upstairs. Ginny looked at her parents and George and Charlie. They all sat in chagrined silence. She got up and followed Harry upstairs.

xXx

Hermione stepped back from Ron and wiped her face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ron said. "It's been a rough day."

She nodded. "We should go back in and try to smooth things over."

Ron sighed. "Yeah, come on." They walked inside to find Molly cleaning the kitchen alone.

"I'll help your mum," Hermione said. "Why don't you go talk to George?"

"Yeah, alright," he said.

Molly had the sink charmed to wash the dishes. Hermione began putting things away as they sailed through rinse water and then a drying charm.

They stood silently working side by side for a few minutes. "You know," Molly said quietly. "There's a contraceptive charm that's a lot easier than having to keep making the potion."

"I know," Hermione said. "Madam Pomphrey made sure we all knew how to do it every year when we went for our physicals."

"Of course," Molly said. "I'm glad they still teach that."

Hermione sighed. "The potion has other uses."

"I know, dear," Molly said, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I'm just so sorry you needed it for that."

"It wasn't a big deal," Hermione said and Molly looked stricken. "It was just so difficult living rough, it was easier not to deal with having a period."

Molly raised her eyebrows. "That's all you used it for?"

"Of course, what else—" She stopped and realized there were three uses for contraceptive potion and the third was as an abortifacient. She shook her head. "I didn't need it for that."

Molly let out a strangled cry of relief and pulled her into a hug. "When Arthur told me what happened at Malfoy Manor, and then I saw that empty bottle, I thought…oh, I've never been so happy to be wrong. I was so worried about you."

Hermione wiped a tear off her cheek. "I'm fine."

Molly held her by the shoulders and looked at her. "I saw you today at the funeral, Hermione. I know you're not fine. But you will be. It takes time. You all need time."

Hermione nodded. "I just want it to stop," she whispered.

"I know, dear."

"I can't sleep," Hermione said, her voice cracking.

"I can give you a draught," Molly said.

"I can't…" Hermione shook her head. "I'm too scared to be knocked out. What if something were to happen—"

"You're safe now," Molly said soothingly.

Hermione shook her head. "I know, but I still can't…" she felt more tears slip and she hated that she couldn't pull herself together. She felt like she'd cried an ocean of tears since the war ended.

"That's okay," Molly said. "You do what you need to do, and if you need to talk I'm always here, and if you'd like to talk to someone professional, I can help with that too. If you change your mind about the draught, it's in the Potion Cabinet."

Hermione nodded and wiped her face on her sleeve. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Molly said. "Why don't you go up to bed? I can finish here."

Hermione nodded and went upstairs.


	7. Forty

Ron knocked on George's door and Charlie opened it. "Hey," he said.

"Come in," Charlie said.

George was sitting on his bed. Charlie had been sitting in the desk chair. Ron looked at Fred's bed but remained standing. He wasn't sure why exactly, but it seemed wrong to sit there. "Look," he started. "I know you're upset. Everyone's upset and everyone has questions, but…"

"All three of you have to be ready to talk before you can talk," George finished for him.

"Yeah," Ron said, surprised.

"Harry told us," Charlie said.

"Good," Ron said, "but…you should probably know, I don't think Hermione is going to be ready to talk for a long time. Harry either, for that matter. They both…" He scratched at his stubble. "Well, some really bad things happened to them, but that doesn't mean they don't understand that other people made sacrifices too."

"I know," George said. "I just…sometimes…ah, I just lost it there for a minute. Seriously, I didn't mean anything by it. Is Hermione okay?"

Ron rubbed his jaw and shook his head. "No. I don't think she is, but she's trying to keep it together."

George sighed. "Aren't we all?"

"Yeah," Ron said.

"Hey, Ronnie," Charlie said. "You know we didn't mean anything the other night, right? With the haircuts."

"Yeah," Ron said. "I know. You were just taking the piss. I shouldn't be so thin-skinned."

"She's great, your girl, she really is," Charlie said.

Ron gave him a half smile, "You don't know the half of it."

George waggled his eyebrows at him.

Ron shook his head. "Wanker. I'm going to bed."

George and Charlie were laughing as he closed the door behind him, but as he walked upstairs to his room, Ron considered Charlie's words. He couldn't help wondering if Hermione really was his girl? He'd like to think she was, or would be, if he could get his head straight and manage ten minutes alone with her for a conversation, only he had no idea what he would say. Right now, he had no job, no prospects, no idea what he even wanted to do. Mostly, what he wanted to do was sleep. He considered getting some dreamless sleep draught from the potion cabinet. He knew his mother had kept it on hand since Ginny's first year at Hogwarts. Getting a dose would be simple enough, but what if something happened? He couldn't risk it.

xXx

Ron was tired the next day, having barely slept the night before. All night, he'd had vivid dreams about Hermione, some were erotic, some were terrifying, the worst were both. All of them woke him. He didn't even bother to look to see what funerals they were going to today. He just followed the other three and took Hermione's arm whenever it was time to go. He felt like his eyeballs were made of sandpaper or maybe it was his eyelids or possibly both. He had a headache. It was a tremendous relief when it was time to go to the fourth and last funeral of the day.

"Since it's in Hogsmeade," Hermione said. "Can you Apparate yourself? We can meet in front of Madam Puddifoot's." She looked completely drained.

"Yeah, sure," Ron said and raised his wand. When he landed, his left pinky was hurting. He looked down to see the fingernail missing. "Bloody hell," he muttered, although he felt like it could have been a lot worse. He was exhausted. He was lucky he hadn't left the whole finger behind. He stuck his pinky in his mouth and went to catch up to the others.

"What's wrong?" Hermione said, when he reached her.

"Lost the fingernail on my pinky," he said.

"Is it bleeding?" Ginny asked.

"Of course, it's bleeding," Ron said. Hermione pulled her wand and cast Episkey. The bleeding stopped but his pinkie still throbbed. She was fishing around in her beaded bag. A moment later she handed him a plaster and put a drop of Essence of Dittany on his nailbed. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"It'll take a few hours for the nail to regrow, best keep it covered until then," Hermione said.

The plaster was the size she used for the cut on her neck, so it was way too big for his pinky, but he wrapped it around the injured finger anyway. They took seats in the chairs set up by the graveside. There were fifty or so people milling about and beginning to take their seats. Ron noticed that a lot of people from Gryffindor house were there. He leaned over and whispered in Hermione's ear, "Who's funeral is this?"

She looked surprised. "Ron—"

That's when he saw Seamus, barely holding it together, standing next to Dean and an older couple, and he knew. "No," he gasped.

"Didn't you look at the schedule?" Hermione whispered.

The eulogy started. He wanted to run. He couldn't be there. He couldn't watch them put Lavender in the ground. Not Lav." Memories flooded his mind. That first kiss in the common room when he felt like the king of the world for winning the match. The way she snogged so openly and freely, like his mouth was the best thing she'd ever tasted. Hers were the first breasts he'd ever had his hands on, ever kissed. She was soft and sweet and so vivacious and pushy and annoying. She'd given him his first and only knob job and now she was dead. Lavender Brown was dead and the beast that killed her was still walking the earth. That same beast had scarred Bill and put his hands on Hermione and threatened to do unspeakable things to her, not the least of which was to rip her throat out with his teeth, which is exactly what he'd done to Lavender. Lavender Brown was dead! Ron couldn't breathe. He was hot but also cold. He started to sweat and felt nauseated. As everyone stood to begin the rose procession, Ron went in the opposite direction. He managed to make it behind a mausoleum before he lost his lunch. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beat his fists bloody against the side of the mausoleum. He wanted to kill Greyback. He wanted to tear to him to pieces with his bare hands, but instead he just slid to his knees and sobbed. At some point, he became aware of voices. Unable to face anyone, he drew his wand and Disapparated directly into his room at the burrow. He cast locking and silencing charms on the door and then proceeded to tear his room apart and scream every expletive he knew until his throat was raw and he'd emptied every drawer, the closet, and his school trunk. He'd ripped down every poster and upended every piece of furniture. When he was done, he went back to the cemetery.

The rose was exactly where he'd left it. The chairs were all gone, but the rose was on the ground where he'd been sitting. He picked it up and carried it to the grave. Seamus was sitting with his back to the headstone.

The Irishman looked up at him and shook his head. "Well, this is just bloody perfect," Seamus said. "Like I wanted to see the likes of you today."

"Sorry," Ron said. "I just…" He set the rose on top of the gravestone. "I'll go."

"Oh, yeah," Seamus said. "Hurry back to Hermione. Bully for you."

"Uh," Ron wasn't sure what to say.

Seamus' face was red and tear-streaked. "That's what you were always going to do anyway. I told her, you know. I told her she was wasting her time with you, but you know Lav, she got something into that thick skull of hers and there was just no dissuading her. And you," Seamus said getting to his feet and poking Ron hard in the chest. "You just went right along with it, didn't you? You bloody tosser. You just used her."

Ron shook his head. "I didn't mean to. I didn't…I'm sorry, Seamus."

"You of all people," Seamus said. "You of all bloody people should have known. She was my best mate, Ron," Seamus shouted at him. "My best bloody mate. Lav and Dean were my Harry and Hermione," Seamus said. "I saw what you went through when she was dating Krum. I commiserated with you. I was there for you and then you turned around…" His voice broke. "You Krummed me, Ron, you feckin' Krummed me."

Ron shook his head. "Seamus, I didn't—"

"Don't say you didn't know. You know you knew."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I was an absolute shit to both of you. I'm sorry. I wish I could take it back. I swear, if I could, I'd take it all back."

Seamus shook his head. "Can't. She's dead." He sobbed into his hands and sat back down. "She was so beautiful and fun. Always had a smile on her face, could make any day better by just walking in the room." He glared at Ron. "But you never really thought that, did you? She was just some girl with blonde hair and big baps that thought you were so cool. She was better than you. She was brave and kind. She was perfect."

"I know," Ron said and sat next to him. "I know." He wasn't sure how much time passed before Dean showed up.

"Hey," Dean said.

"Hey," Ron said.

"Seamus," Dean said. "Come on, mate. Your mum and dad are going spare." Seamus looked up at him and Dean held out his hand. "Let's get you home." Seamus took his hand and Dean pulled him to his feet. He looked at Ron. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Ron said. "Go on then." He sat there for a long time until it started to get dark. He walked to the Hogs Head Inn.

xXx

When Hermione, Harry, and Ginny arrived back at the Burrow, Molly was sitting in the kitchen.

"Is Ron back?" Ginny asked.

"Not yet," her mother answered.

Harry and Hermione exchanged anxious glances.

"I'm going to go get changed," Hermione said. Harry and Ginny agreed and they all trudged upstairs. A few minutes later, Harry came down and knocked on Ginny's door. Hermione opened it.

"Ron's door is locked and I'm pretty sure he Impreturbed it. There's no sound at all coming from the other side," Harry said.

"You think he Apparated right into his bedroom?" Ginny said, coming up behind Hermione.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It makes sense." He looked at Hermione. "What do you want to do?"

"Let's give him some time," she said. "He looked awful when he left. He didn't check the schedule this morning, so he didn't know it was Lavender's funeral."

"Oh no," Ginny said.

Harry looked at his watch. "Alright, let's give him a few hours to calm down."

xXx

A couple of hours later, everyone was sitting down to dinner. "Where's Ron this evening?" his father asked.

"In his room," Ginny answered. "He's not feeling well."

"I'm sorry to hear that," her father said. "How did everything go today?"

"Fine," Harry said. "But sad. One of our classmates from Gryffindor, Lavender Brown, was buried today."

"Oh," Molly said, putting a hand over her heart. "I'm so sorry."

"Us too," Hermione said.

"What year was she?" Molly asked.

"Ours," Hermione said. "She was one of my roommates."

"I'm so sorry," Arthur said.

"She was the first to show up for Dumbledore's Army," Harry said.

"Brave girl, then," Arthur said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "She was and well liked too. And a top student in Divination."

"And very pretty," Hermione said.

"So, Ron…" Arthur ventured.

"Is taking it hard," Hermione said. "They dated for a while sixth year."

"Oh?" Molly said, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"It wasn't a big deal," Ginny hastened to add.

Hermione looked at her and let out a soft snort.

"Pass the potatoes, George," Arthur said. "Did anything else happen today?"

"Charlie and I are going out with Angelina and Lee tonight," George said.

"That sounds like fun," Arthur said. "Where are you going?"

"To see a band that's playing at the Leaky Cauldron," Charlie said. "Probably be a late night."

"Will you stay in London then?" Molly asked.

"Probably," George said. "Lee said we could crash at his."

After dinner, Ginny stayed to help her mother with the dishes while Harry and Hermione went upstairs to Ron's room.

"I say we've given him long enough," Harry said.

"I don't know. He has the right to some privacy."

Harry looked at his watch. "It's been hours."

"I've been gone all night before. It's hypocritical to force my way in."

Harry frowned at her. "Don't be ridiculous. If we'd known where you were, we'd have gone and gotten you straight away. He sat up all night staring at the Deluminator hoping you'd say his name."

"Fine," Hermione said, and drew her wand.

Harry took out his as well. "On three."

She nodded.

"One, two, three," Harry said and they both cast Alohomora. Ron's door burst in.

They stood wide-eyed as they took in the state of the room. There were clothes, shoes, chocolate frog cards, Quidditch equipment, books, and parchment everywhere. Ink was spilled on the rug. All the Cannons posters were torn off the wall. His lamp was broken. His bed and chest of drawers were overturned. Nothing was left in place.

"I wasn't expecting this," Harry said, stepping into the room. He lifted the chest of drawers and put it back against the wall.

Hermione picked up a pair of socks and put them in the bottom drawer.

"Bloody hell," Ginny said from the doorway. "What was he thinking?"

"And where the hell is he?" Harry asked.

"He's out," Hermione answered. "I'll clean up in here."

"We can help," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Mum will go spare if she sees this."

"So, you two go downstairs and keep her company," Hermione said. "I'll handle this."

"Don't you think we should—" Harry started.

"No," Hermione said. "He's a grown man. He's gone out for the evening. He's allowed."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. Harry sighed. "Alright, come down when you're done."

"Sure," Hermione said, trying to ignore the tight ball of anxiety forming in her stomach.

Harry gave her one last concerned look before following Ginny downstairs.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and then went to work. She put the furniture back in place and repaired the lamp using her wand, but she was tired, and didn't want to expend the energy on multiple cleaning charms, so she just started picking things up and putting them away. It didn't take as long as she'd initially thought. Ron didn't have a lot of clothes or shoes. She did cast Reparo on his posters and used her wand to siphon the ink off the rug. Picking up the chocolate frog cards was what took the longest.

xXx

Downstairs, in the parlor, Harry and Ginny were sitting on the sofa reading a Quidditch magazine together while her parents listened to the wireless. George and Charlie had already left for London.

"Where's Hermione?" Molly asked after a while.

"She had some stuff she wanted to organize," Ginny said.

"Has anyone talked to Ron?" Arthur said. "Perhaps I should go upstairs and check on him."

"Well—" Ginny started to say, when they all heard the Floo open in the kitchen followed by a crash and Ron letting out a string of slurred expletives. The four of them hurried into the kitchen to see Ron picking himself up off the floor.

"Why is that bloody table there?" he said crossly.

"It's been there your whole life," his mother said, equally crossly.

"Well," Ron sputtered. "That's a stupid place for it."

"Ron," his father said. "Are you drunk?"

Ron stood up straight and ran his hands over his funeral robes to straighten them. They were covered in a fine layer of Floo powder, which he'd clearly used way too much of. "Certainly not," he said.

"He's completely pissed," Ginny said.

"Where have you been?" his father asked.

"I was at a funeral," Ron said.

"That was over hours ago," Harry said.

"Right, but I went back because I forgot to put, well, I didn't forget, I didn't get a chance because I had to leave, but Lav deserved the rose so I went back to put it on the grave. Only Seamus was there."

"Oh, man," Harry said.

"He hates me."

"Ron," Harry said sympathetically.

"No, he does," Ron said, "Because I Krummed him. And I did too. I totally did. Actually, I worse than Krummed him because I knew. I knew how he felt about Lav, but went ahead and…because I'm giant bloody git."

"I don't understand," Arthur said. "What is 'crumbed?'"

Molly shook her head. "I don't know."

"Why did I do that?" Ron said. "Why? All I did was hurt everybody. That's all I ever do."

"No, it isn't," Ginny said. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. We can sort this out in the morning."

"Good idea," Harry said. They got on either side of Ron and began walking him to the stairs. "He just needs to sleep it off."

When they finally managed to get Ron up to the fifth floor, Hermione was setting his box of chocolate frog cards in his trunk.

"Hermione," Ron called from the door. "Look," he said stopping. "Your hair is free."

"What?" she said, touching her hair which was down and unbraided.

"It's not all," he waved his hands. "Twisty."

"He's trolleyed," Ginny said.

"I can see that," Hermione said frowning.

Ron pulled away from Harry and Ginny and stumbled over to her. "Seamus said I Krummed him and I did. I didn't…at the time…" He lifted one of her curls with his finger. "So springy," he said, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said.

Ron rubbed his face against Hermione's belly. "You smell so good."

"Ron," she said, trying to extricate herself from his grasp.

"Stay with me tonight," he said. "I'll do whatever you want. I just…please."

"Stop," she choked out.

Harry and Ginny were now on either side of Ron trying to get him off of her.

"Ron, let go," Ginny said, pulling on his arm.

"I need…" Ron moaned. "Please."

They were finally able to get him to release her and Hermione fled from the room. Ron collapsed on the floor. "I can't believe I was his Krum. What an awful thing to be."

Harry had to cast Mobilicorpus to get him into bed. Ginny took off his shoes and they let him sleep.

xXx

When Ginny got back to her room, Hermione was sitting in the window seat with her knees pulled up to her chin.

"Bloody hell," Ginny said, pulling the door closed behind her. "He's a mess."

"Yes," Hermione said.

"I'm glad Dad didn't help us get him upstairs, he was a bit grabby there at the end," Ginny said, pulling off her shirt and reaching for a gown.

"He's always wants me when he's drunk," she said. "It's pretty much the only time he wants me."

Ginny looked at her. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is," Hermione said.

"He wasn't drunk the night of the battle," Ginny countered.

"Might as well have been. Coming down off all that adrenaline, no sleep, exhausted and then a shot of Ogden's on top of all that. Come on."

"Wait a minute," Ginny said. "Are you serious? You don't really think that."

"Why not?" Hermione said. "It's true. Besides, you sent him down here, it's not as though he had the idea on his own."

Ginny shook her head. "He loves you."

"I know that," Hermione said, picking a piece of lint off the window seat cushion. "He just doesn't love me the way I love him."

"Bollocks," Ginny said.

"He never touches me," Hermione said.

"Yes, he does," Ginny said.

"Right, he takes my arm for me to Apparate him somewhere. If the chairs at a funeral are close together his shoulder might touch mine. And if I'm crying or upset in anyway, he'll hug me. That's it. You and Harry touch all the time. You kiss the top of his head, he holds your hand. He kisses you, goodnight. There's no mistaking that he loves you as more than just a friend."

"Hermione," Ginny said. "Ron just said he loves the way you smell. That's not something you say to a friend."

"Right, but he's drunk, and a bloke. Put a few drinks in them, and every guy loves the way you smell."

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

Hermione blushed but shrugged it off.

"Okay," Ginny said. "I'll give you that, but—"

"You heard him say it," Hermione said.

"What?"

"'I'll do whatever you want,'" Hermione said. "He knows how I feel, but it's not how he feels."

"He's drunk," Ginny said. "You can't go by drunk talk."

"He's said it before," Hermione said. "It's awful. It's like he just wants to placate me."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't think he means it that way. There's so much going on with Fred and all these bloody funerals. No one has had time to take a breath. We all need a break."

Hermione let out a bitter laugh. "That's what he wants after the funerals. A break. And I stupidly said we could back it up, and now I don't know where we are, but it's nowhere good."

Ginny looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard, but I can't help but believe it will work out. You two are good together. You know that."

"I used to think so, now I don't know what I think."

"Because you're exhausted," Ginny said. "We all are. The whole house is. I'm telling you, it's just a few more days and then we'll have a normal summer, or as normal as we can make it. We'll swim in the pond, play Quidditch, read in the orchard, play cards, snog if we can find any privacy."

Hermione nodded. "That does sound nice."

"Right," Ginny said. "It will be. You'll see."

xXx

Hermione woke at two o'clock in the morning from a dream. Ron had been kissing her stomach, but then he'd turned into Greyback and bit her. She sat up in bed. Ginny was sleeping peacefully, so as quietly as she could, Hermione slipped out of the room and went downstairs. She made herself a cup of chamomile tea and sat down at the table to drink it. She thought about Ron. He was going to wake up with a massive hangover in the morning. He'd looked so stricken at the funeral when he realized it was Lavender they were burying.

Hermione sighed. She'd shared a room with Lavender for six years. They'd never been close, having completely different interests, and temperaments. She'd always thought of Lavender as shallow and frivolous, but she knew a lot of that was jealousy. Lavender was the kind of girl that went for what she wanted. She wasn't terribly introspective but she wasn't generally the critical type either. She was quick to laugh and enjoyed a party, but she wasn't stupid, and she did have principles, and she really was brave. They had somewhat predictably clashed over Professor Trelawny and Divination in general. Lavender thought the class was great, whereas it was the only class Hermione had ever walked out on. She was lucky she had the course load and got the grades she did or she would never have gotten away with that. Lavender got fairly good grades, well enough to stay through her N.E.W.T. year and a lot of people didn't. Hermione sighed, and she was now one of those people. She hated that. Had she lived, Lavender would have graduated with at least a couple of N.E.W.T.s, and based on some of the things Ginny had shared about the last year at Hogwarts, that couldn't have been easy. Hermione made herself another cup of tea and thought about sixth year. Up until then, she and Lavender had been civil if not exactly friends, but once she'd kissed Ron in the common room, that had all changed. At first, Hermione had been angry at Ron. Lavender's behavior was almost superfluous in the whole situation, but for some reason, the second she started dating Ron, Lavender had begun hating Hermione. She made digs at her whenever she could. Hermione was a 'know-it-all,' 'a posh bitch,' and 'thought she was so cool because she was from London.' Pretty much the only thing Lavender didn't comment on was her blood status. Hermione had taken the digs in her stride. She didn't care what Lavender thought about her, had never cared, but then Lavender had changed tactics, to something much more effective. Instead of commenting on Hermione, she began to comment on Ron. His hair was so fiery, his hands were so big, he was big all over (wink, wink). He was such a good kisser. He loved her hair, he kept commenting on how silky it felt, and he just couldn't get enough of her breasts. These comments hit Hermione every bit as hard as they were intended to. They were never said directly to her, but always within earshot. Each comment lodged under her skin and burned and burned and burned.

Now, Lavender was dead and Hermione was alive. It seemed an impossible outcome given the last year, but there it was. One dead, the other alive, but they had one thing in common. Ron. Hermione rubbed her temples. Had Lavender really loved him? For that matter, did she as more than a friend? Maybe she was just lonely and confused. She didn't know what to do next and Ron was familiar. Maybe he was having these same misgivings. Perhaps that was the source of the constant push/pull between them. She got up from the table and poured out the remainder of her tea. All this speculating wasn't getting her anywhere. The truth was she didn't know how she felt, so she could hardly fault him for not being sure of his feelings either. Maybe he was right, maybe they did need a break. She went to the potion cabinet and got a bottle of hangover potion and then grabbed a piece of scrap parchment out of the junk drawer in the kitchen. She scribbled 'drink me' on the parchment and took it and the potion upstairs to Ron's room.

His door was open and he was sprawled on his stomach across the bed with his feet hanging off the side. She set the bottle on his nightstand and put the piece of parchment in front of it. On impulse, she leaned over and softly kissed his ear. He smelled like a brewery. He mumbled something, but then settled back down.

She'd only been drunk a couple of times, always associated with the unique angst of a teenage witch stuck in the Muggle world and trying to fit in. Drunkenness didn't suit her. She enjoyed a nice buzz, but the out-of-control recklessness of being completely drunk, was too irresponsible to really be enjoyable. Besides, she hated the misery of a hangover, and in the Muggle world, there was no drinking a potion for instant relief. She ran her fingers through Ron's hair. What was it that made that fiery orange so appealing? She had an almost overwhelming urge to crawl in bed next to him. She sighed. She loved him as more than a friend. There was no point in denying it. She closed her eyes and blew out a long slow breath before going back downstairs.


	8. Backwards

Ron awoke to the sensation of a brick being pushed into his skull. His mouth felt like he'd spent most of the night sucking on sweaty socks, and he really needed to piss. His bladder won the day and he got out of bed, but instantly sat back down. The room was spinning. He opened one eye and noticed Hermione's handwriting. 'Drink me' was written in her tidy script on a piece of parchment leaning against a small bottle. Ron opened the bottle and drank down it's minty contents. The relief was instantaneous. He loved that witch. He got to his feet, pulled on his tatty, orange robe, and headed down to the bathroom.

After relieving himself, he took a long, hot shower, had a good wank, thinking about Hermione, brushed his teeth, shaved and emerged from the bathroom feeling like a new man. As he walked downstairs though, the events of last night began to come back to him, so that by the time he walked into the kitchen, he felt like a complete git.

Harry, Ginny, George, Charlie, and Hermione were all sitting at the table eating breakfast. There was a place set for him next to Hermione, who was reading the paper. He sat down. Harry handed him a platter of eggs and bacon.

"I'm really sorry about getting so drunk last night," Ron said, as he put food on his plate.

Hermione lowered the paper. "That's alright. We've all been there."

All eyes turned to her with surprised expressions.

Hermione blushed and cleared her throat. "Perhaps not exactly there. I've never had to bury an ex-boyfriend, but I think we can all understand the impulse to get drunk under those circumstances." She raised the paper again and resumed reading.

"Right," Harry said.

"Sure," Ginny agreed.

"I've been a lot drunker for a lot less," Charlie said.

"Me too," George said.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" his mother screeched from the door, where she stood with a basket of eggs.

Ron cringed.

"You were entirely too drunk last night. Stumbling around and causing a fuss. You upset your father terribly."

"I'm sorry, Mum," Ron said, feeling his face go hot. "I'll apologize to Dad when he gets home."

His mother huffed. "See that you do." Her face softened. "I'm sorry about your friend though."

Ron nodded. "Me too. She was a great girl. Not the right one for me," he hastened to add with a glance at Hermione, but she was still hidden behind the paper, "but a great girl, nonetheless."

"I'm sure she was," his mother said, setting the basket of eggs on the counter. "I'm off to the market. I'll be back shortly." Charlie and George, after breakfast, could you boys muck out the barn.

"Sure Mum," Charlie said. His mother drew her wand and Disapparated.

A silence fell over the table as they finished their breakfast. George thrummed his fingers on the table. "So, Granger, when was the last time you were drunk?"

"A couple of years ago," she said from behind the newspaper.

"Oh yeah?" George said. "And why was that?"

Ron tried to feign indifference, but he was glad George was asking these questions because he really wanted to know the answers.

"No good reason," Hermione said, still hidden behind the _Daily Prophet_. "Just partying on the beach with friends."

"Really?" George said. "Which friends?"

"Know a lot of Muggles, do you, George?" Hermione asked.

"Not really," George said.

"Then I doubt you'd know them," she folded the paper and set it on the table. "I'm going to go get in the shower. We've got a funeral soon."

"Yeah," Harry said, rising. "I better get changed."

"Me too," Ginny said.

Ron grabbed another piece of bacon and followed them upstairs. After Ginny peeled off into her room, Ron followed Harry into Bill's old bedroom. "Can you believe that?" Ron said, as Harry got his funeral robes out of the closet.

"What?" Harry said, as he pulled off his pajama top.

"Not only did she date Muggles on hols, she got drunk with them!" Ron said.

"Yeah, well, she said it was a party," Harry said, dropping his pajama bottoms and pulling on his funeral robes.

"Yes, but we're talking about Hermione here," Ron said, exasperated that Harry didn't seem to recognize the significance of any of this.

Harry sighed. "What's your point?"

"My point," Ron sputtered. "My point is that if she dated Muggles and got drunk with Muggles, what the hell else has she done with Muggles?"

Harry frowned at him. "She's Muggleborn, so probably loads of things, but if you're talking about what I think you're talking about, then how is that any of your business?"

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Because…"

"Because what?" Harry said. "As I recall, you two weren't dating two years ago. Did I miss something?"

"No, but…" Ron couldn't think how to say how he felt.

"But what?" Harry said, clearly irritated.

"But…she's Hermione," Ron said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said.

"Dunno, she just…"

"She's allowed to have a life that doesn't include us. In fact, she has had one. I'm not sure why you don't get that."

"I do get it," Ron said indignantly.

"Do you?" Harry said. "Because it seems like you don't. You should go get dressed."

Ron took the dismissal without argument. He didn't have anything left to say anyway. He went upstairs and cast a cleaning charm on his funeral robes, which were looking rough after yesterday's escapades. He got dressed and looked at the clock on his nightstand. They didn't have to leave for twenty minutes, so he locked his bedroom door, and pushed his bed over to reveal the loose floorboard, under which, he kept her letters. He wasn't sure why he'd kept them hidden all these years. They didn't have anything in them that would be inappropriate for someone else to read, but they were his, and he didn't want them falling into the hands of his siblings. There were six bundles of letters tied together with string and arranged by year. He pulled out the bundle of letters from the summer after fifth year when they'd both gone home scarred from the battle at the Department of Mysteries. It was the smallest stack of letters since they'd only been apart that summer for twelve days. Twelve days, he realized with relief, wasn't enough time to really get a serious relationship going.

He opened the first brief letter and skimmed its contents. Mostly, she'd asked after his injuries, but then there it was in the last paragraph. _My parents are taking me to a beach resort because Madam Pomphrey told them the sun would help shrink the scar._ He put the letter back in its envelope and reached for the next one. In this one, she talked about a dessert she'd had. She'd thought it was too rich, with four types of chocolate, but she was sure he'd think it was delicious. Then she asked how he was feeling and said she was feeling much better. Again, it wasn't until the very last paragraph, that she said there were a lot of kids her age at the resort, which was kind of fun. Kind of fun. That's all she'd said. There were no long descriptions of parties on the beach or dates with Muggles. He skimmed the two other letters she'd sent that summer before she'd come to stay with them and they were the same. She didn't talk about her Muggle life. He didn't know about it, because she didn't talk about it. On the other hand, he was fairly certain, he'd never followed up on any of the details she did give. He'd never asked what beach they went to. He'd never asked about those kids her age, never asked what they were like, or what they all did together. She'd opened the door a bit for him, but he'd never walked through, and now it was too late. The only time they'd ever really discussed her life among Muggles had been in the woods on the Horcrux hunt and she'd dismissed it as unimportant, because without her parents, that part of her life was over now. He sighed and felt like he'd failed her. He'd failed her two years ago and he kept failing her.

"Ron!" Harry shouted from downstairs. "We need to go!"

He put the letter's away and moved the floor board and bed back into place before hurrying downstairs.

xXx

The first three funerals went by in a blur. Ron didn't know any of the people being buried and so it felt like he was an automaton performing a rote set of condolences. The last funeral of the day was different and was for a centaur named Como. He was from the Forbidden Forest herd, so every non-centaur attending the funeral Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and then Hagrid escorted them to the edge of the forest. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and one representative from the Ministry of Magic were the only non-centaurs in attendance except Hagrid. Hagrid apparently knew Como quite well and wept openly into the largest handkerchief Ron had ever seen. As they passed the castle, Ron was shocked at the state of it. None of them had seen it since the night of the battle. He couldn't imagine how they were going to rebuild it in time for school to reopen in the fall. Harry looked stricken by the state of the castle. Ron noticed Ginny took his hand and whispered something to him. Ron glanced down at Hermione who seemed very sad as her eyes took in the ruins. He considered his options and decided to slip his arm around her and was relieved when she leaned into him as they walked to the edge of the forest. He couldn't help noticing that she didn't feel as skeletal beneath his hand as she had the last time he'd had his arm around her, and that eased some of his sadness over the state of the school.

xXx

The ceremony was completely different from any they had attended thus far. Firenze spoke the eulogy and then lit a massive funeral bier, at the center of which, was presumably Como, but he wasn't visible. The flame was magically enhanced and contained so that in twenty minutes the entire thing was ash and the herd rose as one and thundered into the forest.

Hagrid wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "He was such a good fella," he said sadly. "Would you lot like to stay for a spot of tea?" he asked the small group. The representative from the Ministry thanked him but declined and said he could make his own way back to the gates. The other four followed Hagrid to his hut. Fang came and rested his now graying muzzle in Harry's lap as they all took a seat around the table while Hagrid put a plate of rock cakes out and then proceeded to make tea.

Ginny reached for a rock cake, but the minute Hagrid's back was turned, Harry grabbed her hand and shook his head. She put the cake back.

"The castle still seems in terrible shape," Hermione commented.

"I know," Hagrid said, as he brought a large teapot to the table and joined them. "But they're working every day on the underlying magic of the structure. Nothing on top can be rebuilt until all that foundation work is finished."

"How long is that going to take?" Harry asked.

"Weeks, but once it's done, Professor McGonagall will likely ask for volunteers to help with the rebuilding."

"I'd like to do that," Harry said and the others agreed that they would too.

"I reckon it'll take everyone," Hagrid said.

They spent another hour catching up. Hagrid never asked where they'd been last year and they never offered to tell him, choosing instead to talk about mutual friends and changes in the Ministry.

xXx

They all had somewhat lighter hearts upon returning to the Burrow late that afternoon. Seeing Hagrid had been therapeutic. Harry and Ginny decided to take a walk through the orchard before dinner. Hermione looked toward Ron somewhat hopefully, but he announced that he was going to feed the animals and didn't invite her along.

She sighed and went to get a book to read. It was a nice day, so she walked down to the pond to read in the gazebo, but found herself too distracted to get anything out of it. She set down the book and stood at the gazebo railing and stared out at the pond. A pair of Mallard ducks were feeding. Seeing the state of Hogwarts earlier had been disheartening. She thought again of not finishing her education. Part of her was glad she'd never have to explain to her parents that she didn't graduate. They would be so appalled. Looking back, she realized that the last time she'd spent a significant amount of time at home was the summer after fourth year. After that, it was a couple of weeks at Christmas and a couple of weeks in the summer and then she was off to the Burrow to live in the Magical world where she belonged. At the time, she'd been so relieved to be back among her own kind that she didn't consider how her parents must have felt. She deeply regretted not spending more time with them when she'd had the chance, but there was nothing to be done about that now. All that was left was the guilt.

There were twelve funerals remaining and then she'd need to start looking for a job. She'd been perusing the want ads in the back of the _Daily Prophet_ for the last week, but hadn't seen much that looked interesting. She didn't want to learn to drive the Knight Bus or become an apprentice baker at Madam Puddifoot's. Unfortunately, all the jobs that appealed to her required N.E.W.T.s. She knew she could get a job that would keep her fed and clothed, but she wanted more than that. Hogwarts aged out at eighteen though, and she would likely be nineteen before the castle was repaired, not that she could imagine going back and living in the dorms again anyway. She felt stuck, unable to go backward but unable to go forward either.

"Oi," Ron said as he came down the path to the pond carrying a fishing pole. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Hermione said.

He smiled at her. "That doesn't sound like you."

She tried to smile back, but didn't quite manage it.

"What's the matter?" he said, setting his fishing pole on the ground.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

He stepped into the gazebo. "Seriously? Who are you talking to?"

She sighed. "Right." She blew out a slow breath. "I've been looking at jobs in the paper and there just isn't anything—"

"Very interesting?" Ron said.

"No."

He shrugged. "I know, but I've been thinking, maybe I should just start applying for whatever I'm qualified for and then worry about what I really want to do later. I mean, right now, what I mostly want is to get out of here and I need money for a flat."

"Oh," she said. "A flat, right."

"Yeah, because, you know…there's no privacy here."

She smiled wryly. "Yes. I've noticed that."

"I need to talk to Harry though, see what he's thinking."

"Right," Hermione said, feeling her heart sink. Ron and Harry were probably going to go off and live in a flat together and she would be left to do what? Rattle around alone in her parents' old place. That sounded so grim.

"I just need gold," Ron said. "Can't do anything without it."

She shook her head. "We really need our Gringott's problem to be resolved. Harry and I have money in accounts that are still frozen."

"Well," Ron said sourly. "Lucky me then without a Knut to my name."

She sighed. She hadn't meant it like that. "All I'm saying is, for the time being, we're all kind of in the same boat."

"Are you out of Muggle money?" Ron asked.

"No, but what I have in cash is it. It's not like I can go to my parents for a bailout. I've got to be frugal with what I've got, and if I want to exchange any for Galleons, I have to have an intermediary do it for me. It's so frustrating."

"I can understand that," Ron said, "but at least you have money to be frustrated about."

"I suppose," she said.

"Besides," Ron said cheerily, "if I could get some money in my pockets, we could try dating."

Her eyes widened. "Dating?"

"Might be fun." He leaned against the railing. "I've never even taken you out to dinner."

She stared at him blankly. They'd lived together for most of the last nine months. She couldn't imagine what he expected to learn about her on a date that he didn't already know.

"I mean," Ron continued. "With a little gold in my pocket, I could show you a proper time, couldn't I? Do things right."

"Are you—?" Hermione started to ask if he was seriously asking her to start over at the beginning. How would that even work, were they just meant to play pretend?

"Oi, Ron," Charlie called from the path. "Mum's decided to make two pies so she sent me to help."

"Great," Ron said, smiling apologetically at Hermione. "Definitely need my own flat," he muttered.

"Yes." She was still stunned by what he'd said. "I think I'll go back up to the house."


	9. The Last Funeral

The next few days churned by too quickly for Ron. He was dreading the last funeral and he could tell everyone else was on edge about it too. Tonks and Lupin would be laid to rest in a double ceremony at the Brompton Cemetery in London. The entire Black family was buried in that cemetery minus Sirius who wasn't buried anywhere. According to a letter Andromeda sent to Molly, her sister Narcissa was complaining bitterly that she planned to bury a werewolf in the family plot, but given that Narcissa's clout wasn't what it once was, Andromeda had gotten her way.

Ron still couldn't believe Tonks was dead. She'd been so full of life. Since Tonks and Charlie had been such good friends, she'd been around the house a lot when they were kids. When Ron thought about it, Tonks had been his first crush. She was just so much fun and so quick to laugh. He looked across the yard to where his mother was showing Hermione some spell in the garden. He tried to think of the last time he'd seen Hermione laugh, not just a little chuckle, but a real belly laugh. He was fairly certain it was when they were still living in the tent. How was it possible he could be nostalgic for that miserable place? He sighed, and continued feeding the pig.

Today's funerals were over, and tomorrow they would be done. He'd been waiting for this day since they'd started attending all the funerals, but now he didn't feel ready to be done. After tomorrow, real life would start. He'd have to find a job, start saving his money, and figure out where he was going to live. He still hadn't talked to Harry about what his plans were. After all, Harry technically already owned two properties, Grimmauld Place and the house in Godric's Hollow. Ron wondered if he planned on moving to either one of them. The house in Godric's Hollow sounded like it was basically a burned-out ruin, but that could be cleared away and he could have a new house built there. Of course, that would require that he be able to access his Gringott's account and that still hadn't happened. He knew Bill was on the team trying to sort out negotiations between the bank and the Ministry, but so far, there had been no word on how it was going.

To make matters more confusing, Hermione had been different since their talk in the gazebo. She hadn't been standoffish exactly, more like, closed off. It was as if she'd shut down some part of herself, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It bothered him though. Perhaps, like him, she was worried about what to do next. She'd spent a lot of time in London lately. She'd leave after the last funeral of the day and not return to the Burrow until dinner time. She said she was working in her parents' garden using some of the spells Molly had taught her, but Ron was starting to wonder if she wasn't just going there for peace and quiet. He'd argued vehemently that it was too dangerous, but she counter-argued that she only went in the daytime, never went in the house, and hadn't had any problems. What really bothered him was that she never invited him along. It would be simple enough for her to come up with some outdoor project, real or imagined, that she needed help with. It's not as though his parents would question him for going with her, and yet, she never asked. He sighed and watched her and his mother walking across the lawn. He thought about jogging over and inviting himself along to London, but his feet stayed stubbornly where they were as he watched her Disapparate. He'd talk to her after Tonks and Lupin's funeral, really talk, about next steps and all that. One more day and they'd get this sorted.

As he was putting away the slop bucket, he saw Harry and Ginny going into the orchard. They were holding hands. He sighed. Everything seemed so easy for them. The Battle of Hogwarts was two weeks ago. Two weeks that felt like two years. Two years of going backwards. He wanted to scream about the state of things between him and Hermione. Why had he been such a git in bed with her, crying like a baby, how was she supposed to respect him now? Not to mention, he'd gotten drunk several times since then and been an absolute berk to her. He'd gone over every incident in his head a million ways, but the outcome never improved. He decided to chop more wood.

xXx

Ron was outside, sitting on a bench in the garden, drinking a glass of pumpkin juice when Hermione returned. He tried to be outside as much as possible. Being inside made him feel antsy and claustrophobic. Hermione didn't see him because she popped into the garden with her back to him.

"Oi," he said.

She turned around.

"Dinner won't be ready for a few minutes. Come sit with me," that last bit had slipped out of his mouth of its own accord, but he was delighted when she sat down beside him. "Did you finish your gardening?"

She sighed. "Yes. I can't think of anything else to do."

"Good," Ron said. He wanted to tell her how much he'd missed her the last few days. He wanted to ask her what the hell she'd actually been doing because magical gardening just shouldn't take that long. Instead, he said, "Nice night."

"It is," she agreed.

"How was London?"

"Nice too, a bit warmer than here, but that's the city for you."

"Yeah," Ron said, as if he knew all about city weather, which of course, he didn't. "You like it though."

She shrugged. "I do. I mean, I grew up there."

"So, um," Ron said. "You think you'll go back there then?"

She worried her bottom lip for a moment. "I've got to decide what to do with my parents' house."

"You're not going to keep it?" Ron asked, surprised.

"I'd like to. I mean, it's a great house, but it's also worth a lot of money. I could sell it and move to a smaller place in a magical community, but then the last time I was in Hogsmeade…"

"What?" he said.

"I don't know, I felt like I was being stared at. Like people recognized me."

"Yeah," Ron said. "I've felt that too recently. It's weird, right?"

"Very," Hermione said. "But in London, well, millions of people live in London. Even Diagon Alley is more anonymous than Hogsmeade."

"Well, Hogsmeade isn't the only magical village," he said.

"No, but it's the only one I'm really familiar with," she said. "But if I go back to London, I'll have to take my parents' house off the electrical grid and make it magical and I don't know…that seems like a lot of work. On the other hand, I don't technically own it. It's not like I have the deed so I'd have to do some kind of magical deception to sell it and I'm not really comfortable with that either."

"I can understand that, seeing as how you just stopped being a criminal." He winked at her and she smiled.

"Right. Although, technically we're still criminals." She shook her head. "I don't know why I'm talking about all this, I haven't been able to bring myself to even peek in the windows yet."

"Seriously?"

She nodded. "Every time I go, I tell myself that I'll just have a look, but I never do."

"Maybe you just need someone to go with you," he said.

"Maybe, or maybe I just need more time. The Aurors haven't cleared it yet and I need the Gringott's situation to be resolved before I start making decisions about the house anyway, unless I just…"

Ron looked at her when she didn't finish the sentence. "Just what?"

She shrugged. "Live like a Muggle for a while."

"You can't do that," Ron said.

"I could. It's ironic though, isn't it?" she said picking at a loose splinter on the bench.

"What?" Ron asked, concerned that she was even considering this.

"All my parents wanted was for me to spend more time in their world. They missed me so much those last few years when I spent most of my summers with your family." She shook her head sadly. "I shouldn't have done that. I wish I hadn't. If I'd only known I'd have so little time left with them, I would've been there more. I would've been kinder, more understanding. They were frightened for me and they were right to be. They loved me so much. I wish I'd been a better daughter."

She'd said this to him before and he knew she agonized over it. "I'm sorry," he said.

Charlie stuck his head out of the kitchen door and shouted, "Oi! Soups on."

"We should probably go in," she said, standing.

He followed her into the house wishing there was something he could do to make things better.

xXx

Dinner was a somber affair. No one much felt like talking. George excused himself early and went for a walk. Ron suspected he was going up to visit Fred's grave, but no one asked him and he didn't say. Charlie also left the table early to go pack. He was planning on returning to Romania after the funeral tomorrow. Ron didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, it would be nice to have one less person in the house. On the other hand, Charlie had been really looking after George and now that he was leaving, Ron felt like most of that burden would fall to him, and he was worried about it. Sometimes, George seemed fine, but other times he seemed to sink into himself. He still wasn't eating normally and he had a full red beard now. Ron thought his mother would fuss about it, but all she'd done was suggest George trim it up nicer. He glanced over at Hermione, who was mostly pushing food around on her plate instead of eating. He knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help leaning over and whispering in her ear, "How about put some of that in your mouth."

She frowned but didn't look at him. She did make an effort to eat some though and he appreciated that.

It was late when dinner was over, Harry and Ginny offered to do the dishes. Molly and Arthur retired to their room, which left Ron and Hermione some precious moments alone in the parlor. To his dismay, she chose to sit in a chair instead of on the sofa. She curled up with a book on the history of magic in Devon and he could tell by the look on her face, she wasn't coming up for air anytime soon. He sighed and went outside. He sat on the same bench in the garden he'd sat on earlier and looked up at the stars. George was coming back down the path from the orchard, noticed him, and came over and sat down.

"What're you doing out here?" George asked.

Ron shrugged. "Nothing. You?"

George sighed. "Same."

"Charlie's leaving tomorrow," Ron commented.

"Yeah," George said. "I know he's got to get back to work, but I'm going to miss him."

"Me too," Ron said.

"Where's your bird tonight?" George asked.

Ron let out a soft snort. "If you mean Hermione, she's in the parlor reading."

George arched an eyebrow at him. "Who else would I mean?"

"No one," Ron said, sighing. "I just don't know that she'd appreciate being referred to as my bird."

"Which part of that would bother her?" George asked. "The bird part or the yours part."

Ron snorted again. "Probably both."

"Really?" George said. "I figured you two were—"

"I don't know what we are," Ron admitted.

"Oh," George said.

They sat in silence for a while, before Ron got up. "I'm going down to the pond. I'll be back later."

"Yeah," George said. "Goodnight."

xXx

Harry walked down to the pond. Ron had asked him if they could talk earlier, but he and Ginny had been going to toss a Quaffle around and he didn't have time. When George had come in, and said Ron was going down to the pond, Harry felt like he should take the opportunity to catch up with him. They hadn't talked much since the battle. Harry had spent most of his time with Ginny trying to make up for all those months without her. He craved time with her, not the least of which was because she, more than anyone else, knew what being entangled with Voldemort was like. Ginny understood him on a level no one else could. It was soothing to be with her.

Ron was at the water's edge tossing pebbles at the smooth surface of the pond.

"Hey," Harry said, as he walked up.

Ron turned to look at him. "Hey," he said, and resumed what he was doing.

"You said you wanted to talk earlier today," Harry ventured.

"Yeah," Ron said. He wiped his hands on his trousers and turned around. "I was just wondering what your plans were, you know, after tomorrow?"

"Plans?" Harry said.

"Yeah, what are you going to do? Get a job, get a flat? What?"

"Oh," Harry said. He cleared his throat. "Well, to be honest, I haven't thought too much about it. I mean, the whole Gringott's situation isn't resolved yet, so I don't have access to any money. Not to mention, I can't really apply for a job while we're in this criminal/not-a-criminal limbo. Once that's sorted, and I have money again, I guess I could go live at Grimmauld Place, but honestly, I was kind of hoping to spend as much time as possible with Ginny before she goes back to school."

"Right," Ron said. "So, you're just going to spend the rest of the summer here then?"

"I was planning on it," Harry said. "Unless that's not okay. I mean, I know I'm sponging off your parents. I could—"

"No," Ron said. "You should stay. They love having you here and they certainly don't think you're sponging. You just saved the whole wizarding world Harry. They're bloody honored to have you here."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, well, I don't want to take advantage. I guess I should start thinking about next steps, but…"

"What?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. Is it selfish that I want the summer?"

"Nah. I kind of want the same thing," Ron said.

"Great," Harry said. "So, what's the problem then?"

Ron hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Oh," Harry said. "Hermione."

"She's really torn up about her parents and upset about not graduating. Being here is starting to make her crazy. It's noisy and there isn't any privacy."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, tell me about it. That's the only problem with spending the summer here."

Ron sighed.

"What? You're not still bothered about me and Ginny."

"No. Of course not," Ron said. "You guys seem great. Really great. I just wish the same could be said for Hermione and me."

"Why?" Harry said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing specific. I just…it's like…I don't know. We're just not on the same page or something. It's my fault. I keep bungling things. I don't understand it. At Shell Cottage, I felt like I finally had it right. I knew what to do, what to say. It felt like we were in sync and then…we got back here and somehow it all fell apart and now it feels like…I don't know…like we've gone backwards or something."

"I thought that's what you wanted," Harry said.

"What?" Ron looked confused.

"Didn't you tell Hermione that you wanted a break and to back things up?"

"Yeah, but…I didn't mean from her. I meant in general, like you were just saying about taking the summer. I want a break from all the bloody chaos of the last year. I want to back it up to a simpler time."

"But," Harry said, "In simpler times you two weren't, you know, together."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "I bloody know that, don't I? But I wasn't talking about her and me. How could she get that so wrong?"

Harry shrugged.

"I told her I loved her. She said she loved me too. How much clearer can you get?"

"That does sound pretty clear," Harry said.

"Right?" Ron said, shaking his head. "And given what we were doing at the time, I would've thought it was crystal."

Harry looked at him. "Hang on, you told her you loved her in bed."

"Course I did," Ron said.

"Right, but you have since, I mean, that's not the only time you've said it."

"Well," Ron said, clearing his throat. "I mean, no. Not as such, but she knows."

Harry shook his head slowly. "Are you sure she didn't think that was just, you know, heat of the moment?"

"No," Ron said. "Of course not. Don't be daft."

Harry scratched at his late-day stubble. "If you say so."

xXx

Hermione had been to Brompton Cemetery, which was convenient because it meant that she and Ron could Apparate right there while the rest of the family took a Portkey. Most of the funerals they attended weren't large enough for the Ministry to issue Portkeys so for most of them, they'd had to Apparate to the nearest point they knew and then take the Knight Bus to the actual location, which was more practical than flying.

When they landed, Ron was struck by the beauty of the cemetery. There was a domed building and an arch and so many elaborate headstones and mausoleums that the whole place appeared old and venerable.

Hermione looked around. "I'm not sure where to go."

"There," Ron said. At one end of a colonnade, there was a sign that said "Black Funeral" with an arrow. They walked down the colonnade and toward a group of people already gathered. Ron could feel his stomach clench as they approached Andromeda Tonks who was holding baby Teddy.

"Oh, Ron," she said. "It's so good to see you. Do you think you could take Teddy for a bit? I have so many people to greet."

"Sure," Ron said, "whatever you need." He took the squirming infant and held him in his arms. He turned around to see that Hermione had been waylaid by Luna Lovegood and her father, who looked even more out of it than usual. Ron walked toward them.

"We're still living in the tent," Luna was saying, but I'm hoping to find someone to help with the house soon. I'm not very knowledgeable when it comes to construction charms. And Daddy's not well." Xenophilius had wandered off away from the group. "Oh, sorry," Luna said. "I need to collect him."

Hermione had gone pale.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked.

"I destroyed their house," she said quietly. "They're living in a tent and it's my fault."

"No," Ron said firmly. "It's his fault for calling the bloody Death Eaters on us."

"He was only doing that to try and get Luna back."

"Right," Ron said disparagingly. "Like they were going to just give her back."

"He was desperate," Hermione argued.

"I don't care what he was," Ron said grimly. "You saved our lives and I won't feel bad about it."

"But she's our friend," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron softened. "I know. I'll talk to Dad and George. They both know construction spells. I know a few too. We can go over there and see how bad it is. Maybe at least shore it up if we can't fix it."

She nodded. "I'll go too. Do what I can." She stroked Teddy's blue hair and noticed it had gone curly. "Isn't he the cutest thing."

Ron looked down at the baby boy in his arms. "He is pretty cute." He looked up to see that his family had arrived with Harry.

People began taking their seats.

Andromeda gave the eulogy for her daughter. Harry gave the eulogy for Remus. During the rose procession, Ron noticed Charlie walk off on his own. "Hey," he said to Hermione. "Can you take Teddy?"

"Sure," she said, and took the sleeping baby.

xXx

People were milling around after the rose procession, and Hermione saw Professor McGonagall. She walked over to the older witch. "Professor?"

McGonagall turned around. "Miss Granger," she said. "It's good to see you."

Hermione smiled. "It's good to see you too. Actually, I had a question, but if now isn't a good time, perhaps I could make an appointment—"

"No, no, I actually wanted to see you too. What do you need?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, I was wondering…I mean…I know I missed last year, but…would it be possible to complete my N.E.W.T.s?"

McGonagall gave her a sympathetic smile. "There is an age restriction on residency and I'm afraid you'll have aged out by the time the castle is rebuilt."

"Oh," Hermione said, crestfallen.

"Although, I can't imagine, given your current situation, that you were interested in staying at Hogwarts anyway. You could, of course, challenge the exams, but with a new baby, it would be very difficult, to say the least."

"A new—?" Hermione looked down at Teddy asleep in her arms. His hair was now straight and ginger, the exact shade of Ron's. "He's not. No. This is Teddy Lupin."

"Oh," McGonagall said. "I thought, well—"

But Hermione ignored that. "So, you were saying I could challenge the exams."

"Yes. You'd have to arrange to meet with individual professors to schedule times but yes, it's possible to take your N.E.W.T.s as an extension student doing independent study."

"Would I still have library privileges?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, you just wouldn't be attending classes or have a place in the dorms."

Hermione nodded. "That's fine. I can't really see moving back into the dorms now anyway. Only…"

"What?" McGonagall asked.

"I'm having a bit of funding issue at the moment," Hermione said. "Tuition and books would be—"

"Covered," McGonagall said. "That's what I needed to see you about. Last year, when we sent out notices for tuition and fees, your parents paid immediately and in full, as always, which is much appreciated, I must say. You'd be amazed…well, never mind. The point is, you have an outstanding balance in your account. I see no reason why that can't be used to cover this year's expenses."

Hermione blinked back tears. "That's…that's…perfect. Thank you. Thank you so much."

McGonagall smiled kindly at her. "You were always an excellent student, Miss Granger, I'm glad you want to do this. It would be a shame for you not to graduate."

Hermione nodded.

"Expect a letter in the next few weeks. Where are you staying now?"

"At the Burrow, for the time being, if that changes I'll be sure to let you know."

"Very well," McGonagall said. "I really should be going. I'll talk to you soon."

xXx

Harry saw Professor McGonagall walking away from Hermione, who had her head tilted back and her eyes closed. She was still holding Teddy. Harry walked over to her. "Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. How are you doing?"

Harry shrugged. "Alright, I guess. It's still hard to believe they're gone." He reached over and stroked Teddy's cheek. "And I'm this little guy's godfather."

"You should take him," Hermione said, holding Teddy out to him.

"Oh, I don't know. I've never held a baby. I wouldn't want to drop him."

Hermione smiled. "You won't drop him. Just support his head." She settled Teddy into Harry's arms.

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, feeling very stiff holding the baby.

"My parents' club held a baby-sitting class and my mum made me go," Hermione said. "It's not that hard. Relax, Harry."

Teddy was starting to get fussy. Harry took a deep breath and tried to relax his arms. "You're alright, mate," he said to Teddy, who settled back down.

"See," Hermione said. "You're a natural."

"Sirius was a good godfather," Harry said, his voice catching. "I'd like to be good too."

"You will be," Hermione said, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry."

Ron approached. "Hey, mum has invited some people back to the house. We should get going."

"I should get this little guy back to his gran," Harry said, and started walking toward Andromeda.

Ron cleared his throat. "Um, so, is uh, this anywhere near your parents' place?"

Hermione looked at him. "Oh, not really. It's about ten miles north of here."

"Well, that's not far," Ron said. "If you want to stop and check on things before we head back."

She shook her head. "No, that's alright. We should get back to the Burrow and help your mum."

Ron nodded. "Alright then." He took her arm and she raised her wand and Disapparated.

xXx

Over the next half hour, Andromeda Tonks with Teddy, members of the Order of the Phoenix, and several Hogwarts professors showed up at the Burrow. Everyone arrived with either food or alcohol or both. Fleur and Hermione took charge of putting out the food while the Weasley clan played host and circulated with drinks. Teddy was passed around quite a bit but ended up in Harry's arms for most of the evening. It was after eleven o'clock when Andromeda finally took Teddy and went home. Exhausted, Molly and Arthur hugged Charlie and said their goodbyes before going to bed.

Harry, Hermione, and Fleur along with Ron and his siblings were all in the back garden, enjoying their last few minutes together before Charlie returned to Romania on a midnight Portkey.

"What a bloody fortnight," Charlie said. "I can't believe you lot went to every funeral."

Harry shrugged. "Seemed the least I could do."

"Still," Percy said. "Must've been grim."

"Dunno," Ron said. "It was kind of cathartic in a way. Don't you think?" he said.

"I suppose," Hermione said.

"At least it's done," Ginny said.

"Hear, hear," Harry said, and held up a bottle of Dragon Scale. The others clinked their bottles against it.

Charlie sighed. "As grand as it's been to see everyone, I'll be glad to get back to my dragons and normal life tomorrow."

"Dragons and normal life don't seem like they belong in the same sentence," Percy said.

Charlie chuckled. "Well, they do for me."

"I don't know about dragons," Bill said, "But it was nice to get home with just Fleur and me. This place is a madhouse when we're all home."

"Tell me about it," Percy said. "I was ever so happy to get back in my flat."

"What about you, George?" Charlie asked.

George let out a big sigh. "Dunno. The Aurors haven't cleared the shop yet, and our flat is above it. I talked to Kingsley tonight though, and he thinks it should be done by the end of the week, which is good, since I'm losing money every day it stays shuttered."

"So, you're definitely reopening then?" Percy asked.

"Yeah, I think so," George said. "I mean, it was our dream and it was a successful one. I feel like I'd be failing Fred to bail on it now." He took another long drink of ale.

"I think you should do whatever is best for you," Charlie said. "I think Fred would want that too."

The others murmured their agreement.

"Yeah," George said. "Well, I've got to see the state of the place first, don't I? Before I make any decisions."

Everyone agreed with that too.

Hermione got to her feet and felt the headrush that comes from having had a bit too much ale. "It's late. I've got to go to bed. Charlie it was wonderful seeing you."

Charlie stood and gave her hug. "You too, Hermione. And thanks for the haircut." He winked at her.

She smiled and shook her head.

"G'night," Ron said.

Everyone else wished her goodnight and she made her way into the house.

"Your girl is smart," Charlie said. "Now, she gets the bathroom first."

"I keep telling you lot she's a genius," Ron said.

Harry laughed which started everyone else laughing. Charlie took his Portkey a little while later, but the others stayed up and the night wore on.

xXx

Hermione woke sometime later with Ron laying down next to her. "Ron?" she gasped. "What are you doing?"

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. I just…I just can't make it to…fifth floor just yet. I just need to lay here for a minute. It's okay. I'm not…I'm not trying to…only need…" And then he was snoring.

Hermione sat up on one elbow. "Are you serious?" She nudged him. He didn't stir. She pushed harder and still nothing. She looked over at Ginny's bed for some support, but Ginny wasn't there. "Bloody hell, Ron." She sighed and lay back down. He was laying on top of the blanket and taking up more than half the bed. She could stay where she was until Ginny came in and could help her kick him up to his room or she could go downstairs and sleep on the sofa. She rolled over and put her back to him. She was sure to wake up when Ginny came in, so she wouldn't worry about it. That night she slept soundly and didn't have a nightmare.


	10. The Fourth Estate

Hermione woke the next morning uncomfortable and hot. Ron had turned in the night and was wrapped around her. His arm was over her waist and one of his legs was draped over hers, putting a lot of pressure on her lower back. She started to shift out of from under him but he gripped her tighter and mumbled something.

She looked over to see Ginny asleep in her bed. The clock on her nightstand said five forty-five. She nudged Ron with her elbow. "Get up," she whispered.

He opened his eyes and then opened them wider and scrambled out of bed. He glanced at Ginny. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, holding his head, which clearly hurt.

Hermione held a finger to her lips and got out of bed. She opened the door and took a quick peek outside. The stairway was empty. She gestured for Ron to go. He started to say something at the door, but then didn't, he was out of the room and into the bathroom without anyone seeing.

xXx

Making sure the coast was clear, Ron left the bathroom and went upstairs to change clothes. Harry was asleep on the camp cot, since Bill and Fleur had stayed over last night, as had Percy.

Harry opened one eye when Ron came in. "Where have you been?"

"I slept with Hermione," Ron said, as he pulled off his trousers. His head was pounding and his mouth felt as though it were coated in sand.

Harry sat up. "You what?"

"We just slept," Ron said.

"Where?" Harry said. "I thought she went to bed hours before you."

"Gin's room," Ron said, as he changed his shirt.

"No, you didn't," Harry said.

"Yeah, it was stupid. I'm lucky I didn't get caught. As if Mum's not upset enough."

"I can't believe she let you stay," Harry said.

"I'm not sure I gave her much choice. I kind of passed out on her bed."

Harry shook his head. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was," Run said glumly and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"How was she this morning?" Harry asked.

"Quiet," Ron said.

Harry shook his head.

"I know," Ron said. "I know. Please don't say it."

"Right," Harry said, and lay back down.

Ron went downstairs. Hermione was at the kitchen table having a cup of tea with his mother, who looked up at him in surprise. "I don't usually see you up this early," she said.

"Couldn't sleep," Ron said.

His mother arched an eyebrow at him. "Drinking too much can do that." She handed him a small vial from a collection of them on the kitchen table. "Thanks, Mum," Ron said. He drank down the contents and felt instantly better.

"Has Dad already left for work?" Ron asked.

"No, it's Sunday, but it's still the first full day he's had off since the battle, so he's having a bit of a lie-in,"

"Good," Ron said. "He deserves it."

"He doesn't like all this drinking you lot have been doing," his mother said. "He finds it very upsetting."

"I'm sorry, Mum," Ron said, glancing at Hermione, who was staring out the window. Ron noticed that his mother always said that anything upsetting was bothering his father, whereas his father always said those same things were upsetting his mother. Neither of them ever said they were upset too, only that the other one was. Hermione stood and opened the window to let in the owl with the _Daily Prophet_.

"Oh, goodness," she said, looking at the paper. "Harry's not going to like this."

"What?" Ron asked.

Hermione set the paper down on the table so he and his mother could both see the front page. There was a large photo of a somber Harry carrying a blue-haired Teddy with the headline _Chosen One Now Devastated Godfather_.

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed. "We made it through fifty-five funerals without them managing to get a photo but they just had to do it."

"I wish it could have been at one of the others. He's really not going to like this," Hermione said, before picking up the paper and starting to read through it.

His mother got up from the table. "I might as well start breakfast."

Ron helped her and the rest of the family began to slowly trickle in and take their potions and then their seats. He was setting a platter of bacon on the table when Hermione made a strangled cry, slammed down the paper, and stormed out of the kitchen.

Ginny was just coming in. "What was that about?"

Ron picked up the paper and looked at where she'd left it open to the gossip column. There was a picture of Hermione holding baby Teddy, whose hair was red. Ron was walking away in the background. The caption read: I guess we know where Miss Granger has been for the last nine months. So much heartache for the Chosen One. "Oh, bloody hell!" He followed Hermione out into the garden.

She was pacing, tapping her wand against her leg as she walked.

"Hermione," he ventured. "I know you're upset—"

"Upset? Upset! Upset doesn't even begin to describe what I am."

He held up his hands. "I know."

"I don't think you do," she said. "This is exactly the kind of prejudice we just fought a war over and supposedly won. Nothing's changed. They printed that without even asking me or you or Harry what might actually be going on. They just…they just…" her voice cracked and he stepped toward her. She held out a palm to stop him. "Don't," she said. "Do not touch me."

He stood still. "Hermione—"

"You came into my room last night and got into bed with me without even asking."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I really am."

"For weeks, I've had people making assumptions about who I've been sleeping with or whether or not I'd been raped. McGonagall at the funeral thought Teddy was mine. McGonagall! Do you have any idea how…that she would think that I would be so…and then you just pass out in my bed whenever you bloody well feel like it!"

"I'm so sorry," Ron repeated.

She swung around with her wand up and pointed at him. "You should be," she shouted. "All of you should be. You shouldn't make assumptions. None of you should make assumptions. No one should. It's just sloppy. I decide! I do."

"I'm so sorry," he said again, trying to follow her and failing, but she was clearly very upset and very angry.

She made a strangled frustrated growl and Disapparated.

Ron stood for a moment staring at the spot where she was. "Bloody hell." He walked back into the kitchen to see Harry frowning at the _Daily Prophet_. "Can you believe this?" he said. "Is Hermione alright?"

"No," Ron said. "Definitely not. Can I have a word, Harry?"

Harry got up and followed him outside. "What happened?"

"She shouted a great deal and then she Disapparated," Ron said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Harry sighed.

"I'm going to need you to go get her."

"Ron—"

"I know you must have her address by now. You would've gotten it after the last time she did this. I know you've got it. Just go collect her or sit with her, something. She's too upset to be on her own."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe she just needs a minute."

Ron shook his head. "No. This isn't that. She's…a lot has happened. She's really upset. Could you please just go check on her. She's likely in the garden. Maybe take her a sandwich. She hasn't had anything to eat."

Harry sighed. He was still in his pajamas. "Go make us both a sandwich. I'll go get changed."

xXx

Harry Apparated to Tottenham Court Road and then held out his wand for the Knight Bus. A couple of minutes later the purple, triple decker bus appeared and Harry clambered aboard and gave the bus driver Hermione's parents' address. Ten harrowing minutes later, he got off the bus in front of a lovely brick home on a quiet, tree-lined street. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. Remembering Ron's comment about where to find her, he went to the side of the house and through a gate into the back garden. He found her all the way at the end of the garden sitting on a bench in front of a shed. She was drinking from a stoneware mug from the 1995 Glastonbury Festival. He expected to find her curled up and crying, but instead she just sat on the bench staring at nothing. "Hermione?"

She looked up at him. "Ron sent you?"

"Nah," Harry said, sitting next to her. "I just fancied a trip to London and thought I'd stop by since I was in the city." He handed her one of the sandwiches.

"Thanks." She unwrapped it and took a bite before opening it and examining the contents. "Ron made this. No one else puts this much bacon on one sandwich."

"Yeah," Harry said, unwrapping his own. "I've always thought his bacon sandwiches were brilliant."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. When Harry had finished eating, he said, can we go in and get a drink to wash that down.

Hermione shook her head. "The house hasn't been cleared yet. I'm sure there's another cup. If not, I'll transfigure something."

Harry followed her into the shed.

She picked up a plastic cup of nails and emptied it into a rusty coffee tin. A pack of Benson and Hedges fell out too. She cast a cleaning charm on the cup and then took it outside to rinse it with her wand.

Harry stood in the shed looking at the makeshift bed she'd made on the workbench the night she'd slept there. He went back outside and she handed him the cup of water. The cup had Reading 93 down the side. "There's a box of tea in the shed. It tastes a bit of dust, but I'll make you some if you like."

"This is fine," Harry said. They sat back down on the bench and Harry drank his water.

"I think Ron might've had it right," Hermione said.

"What did he have right?" Harry asked.

"That we need a break. We spent nine months crammed in that tent. Now that we're back, you have Ginny and you two are reconnecting and that's great, but she's not someone you've spent every minute of the last nine months with so…anyway, Ron and I don't have that. He's right. We need a break from each other."

"Hermione, Ron didn't mean he needed a break from you. He meant from the stress."

She looked at him. "But I was part of the stress. He may not have realized he meant it, but actually, I think he did. And more importantly, I think he was right."

"So, what does that mean?" Harry said.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. It's tricky with this whole Gringott's mess. I have Muggle money and I guess I could live off that and just use the Muggle economy until the situation with the Goblins gets settled."

"What are you talking about? You're not leaving the Burrow. Not yet. They're still rounding up Death Eaters. It's not safe to be on your own."

"I've spent the night here before. Nothing happened," she said. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Well, I'm not, so no," Harry said firmly. "I'll not have you sleeping in a garden shed because you and Ron had a misunderstanding."

She looked away from him. "It's more than a misunderstanding and it's more than just Ron."

"I don't care what it is," Harry said. "You're not staying here until the Aurors have cleared the house. It's not safe. You'll just have to figure out whatever it is you need to figure out at the Burrow."

"Harry—," she started to protest.

"Look, I know you can be stubborn, but you're not stupid and sleeping in a garden shed and living on the Muggle economy without backup would be incredibly stupid. You're a high-status target. Surely, you must know that."

She frowned at him.

"This stops," he said firmly. "Until the Aurors say it's safe, I don't want you coming back here alone."

"What am I supposed to do about Ron?" she said, her eyes filling with tears.

"I don't know, but I do know you love each other, so I'm assuming being clever and resourceful, the two of you will figure it out."

"You really think so?"

"I think I've seen you both do amazing things and you've managed to keep me alive despite all odds against that for seven years now, so yeah, I have every confidence you can work this out. Just be patient, you've both been through a lot."

She nodded and hugged him. "You're a good friend, Harry."

He hugged her back. "No more than you deserve."

xXx

Ron was pacing in the back garden when they Apparated. Harry raised his eyebrows at him and went inside. Hermione stood watching two gnomes try to figure out how to get an old garden trowel over the wall. Ron approached her slowly, knowing that he needed to get this right. "I'm rubbish when I'm drunk," he said. "So, I'm not going to do that anymore."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not saying I'll never have another drink, but I won't get so drunk that I…that's not how I want to be with you. You deserve better than that."

"That's true. Thanks," she said, without looking at him. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what?" Ron said, confused as to what she was talking about.

"For popping out to London without considering…I shouldn't go alone. It's stupid. Reckless. I should be more considerate of your feelings, of everyone's feelings."

"Okay," Ron said.

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

"About what?" Ron asked.

"About the summer, a job, life?"

Ron sighed. "Well, as Harry pointed out, we can't really apply for jobs until the Gringott's situation is settled, so I guess, until it's resolved, I'll just stay here."

She sighed.

He swallowed hard. "And I think you should do the same."

She looked at him.

"I know it's not ideal," he said. "But it's safe, and once everything settles down, we'll decide next steps. Alright?" He stepped toward her, intending to take her hand or maybe pull her into a hug, possibly kiss her, but everyone in the house chose that moment to come into the back garden.

"Are you ready?" his father said. Ron wanted to scream NO! but he sighed instead.

"Ready for what?" Hermione asked.

"We're going to the Lovegood house to see if we can help," Ron said, sadly. He didn't want to go right now.

"Oh," Hermione said. "I'd forgotten all about that. I'll go too."

"Come on then," his father said.

Harry Disapparated with Ginny, everyone else went on their own.

xXx

Hermione couldn't believe the state of Luna's house. "It looks awful," she gasped.

"No," Ron said. "It's not so bad."

A small white tent was set up in the garden next to the Dirigible Plum bush. The rook-shaped house had a gaping hole in one side which someone had shored up with planks of wood which shimmered as though there were a shield charm in affect as well.

Luna stepped out of the tent. "Weasleys and Harry and Hermione," she said with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"We've come to help with the house," Ginny said stepping forward to hug Luna.

"Thank you," Luna said. "Are you sure you can fix it? It's rather a wreck inside as well. There's a big hole in the floor."

Mr. Weasley pushed his hat back a bit and scratched his head. "Not to worry, my girl, we can do it. Boys, let's take some measurements." Harry, Ron and George followed him to the gaping hole in the wall, leaving Ginny, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley standing with Luna.

"I should put the kettle on," Mrs. Weasley said.

"There's a kitchen in the tent, but my father—"

"Oh, don't you worry about Xenophilius," Mrs. Weasley said. "We go way back. I used to babysit him." Without another word she went into the tent.

Hermione stood staring at the gaping hole in the structure. "I'm so sorry."

"What?" Ginny said.

"This was my fault," Hermione said.

"No, it wasn't," Luna said. "You did it, but it was Daddy's fault. He knows that. It's why he's so upset."

"Wait," Ginny said. "You did that?" she asked Hermione.

"Yes, we came here to ask Mr. Lovegood about a symbol. Luna had been taken by Death Eaters to force him to stop writing pro-Harry articles in the _Quibbler_. He was desperate to get her back. That's why he contacted the Death Eaters. I cast blasting spells to get us out of there."

"And," Ron said, walking up. "She had the foresight to make sure I wasn't seen, so Mum and Dad wouldn't get in trouble for lying about where I was, but she made sure Harry and her were seen, so Luna's dad wouldn't be accused of lying about them being there. It was bloody brilliant. I'm sorry about the great gaping hole, Luna, but Hermione saved a lot of people by making it."

Luna threw her arms around Hermione. "You saved Daddy. You never said."

"But," Hermione said, tears filling her eyes.

"Dad says we can fix the house. It'll take a few days. But we can fix it," Ron said. "The underpinning magic needs to be fixed first though, so he needs mum."

"She's in the tent," Ginny said.

Ron lifted the flap and went inside.

xXx

A few minutes later, Ron's parents had their wands out and were casting complex spells at the base of the rook-like structure that was Luna's home. Just as when Ginny, Luna, and Hermione were unable to take down Bellatrix together, and yet, Molly dispatched her in one stroke, the spells to stabilize an entire magical structure required the power and wisdom of age. Hermione watched closely as the Weasleys worked, marveling at how much magic they could funnel. She wondered if they weren't even more powerful because they were married and casting together.

"What else needs doing?" Ginny asked Luna.

Luna looked around. "Honestly, I need to get out the latest issue of the _Quibbler_. We haven't had any money coming in these last few months. I'm worried if we don't get an issue out soon, we'll lose all our subscribers."

"We can help with that," Ginny said, which is how Hermione found herself arranging the layout for an article on Yeti marriages. Like the tent she and Ron and Harry had stayed in, Luna's tent was magical and much larger on the inside than on the outside. There was a large table at one end of the main room with a small parlor with a sofa and two wing chairs at the other end. Off of the central room were a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. The layout was so similar to their tent that Hermione found it both comforting and disorienting.

While Harry, Hermione and Ginny helped Luna with the Quibbler. Ron and George did chores around the yard. Ron chopped wood, although he couldn't do it as fast as he could at home because he only found two axes in the shed, and he had to sharpen both of them before he could get started. George started clearing out the garden, weeding and degnoming.

"I'm worried we don't have enough content," Luna said, looking at the pages they'd already done.

"It will be fine," Xenophilius said in a hollow voice from the corner where he sat sipping tea. He looked awful. Normally so flamboyant, Xenophilius now looked shrunken and grey, worse than he had when he'd told them about the Deathly Hallows.

Hermione nudged Harry, "You should talk to him," she whispered.

He raised his eyebrows. "And say what?"

"Go be magnanimous," Hermione said. "Do your Chosen One thing, like you do at the funerals. Forgive him."

"Because you're so forgiving," Harry said, frowning at her.

She knew she wasn't, and were it not for Luna, she wouldn't even consider that Harry should forgive her father. "Not for him," she said. "I don't care about him, but don't you think it would help Luna?"

Harry looked across the tent where Luna and Ginny were debating where to put an article on baking with Dirigible Plums. He sighed. Luna, never a particularly robust person, looked more fragile and ethereal than ever. "Fine. I can't promise anything though. He looks pretty out of it."

"I think she'd appreciate the effort," Hermione said. She watched as he walked over to Xenophilius and then spoke to the older man in low tones. She wondered what he was saying. Whatever it was, it must have made a difference, because Xenophilius grasped Harry's hand and thanked him in a gasping cry.

Luna looked up from the page she was working on. "Daddy?"

Xenophilius rose from his chair. Hermione had forgotten how tall he was. He stepped over to the table where Ginny and Luna were working and kissed his daughter on the top of her head. "Harry Potter has forgiven my transgressions against him," he said in hoarse whisper.

"That's good, Daddy," Luna said, cocking her head at Harry.

"We must do something for him. Say something on his behalf. Find something he needs, Luna. I'm going to take a walk." He kissed the top of her head again and shuffled out of the tent.

Luna looked at Harry. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that, but thank you."

"You're a good friend, Luna," Harry said. "Besides, he did what he did because he was so distraught about losing you. I can understand that. I really can."

Luna nodded. "Still," she said. "It was a terrible thing to do."

"But he's suffered for it," Harry said. "It's time to forgive and move on."

Luna smiled. "So, what do you want?"

"What do you mean?" Harry said.

"Daddy said we had to say something in the _Quibbler_. What would you like that to be?"

Harry looked at Hermione. "Can you correct something the _Daily Prophet_ bungled?"

"Of course," Luna said.

"They ran a photo in the gossip column of Hermione holding Teddy and the _Prophet_ decided that meant he was Hermione's baby. Could you correct that?"

"Absolutely," Luna said. She turned to Hermione. "What would you like me to say?"

"Um," Hermione said. "I'm not sure."

"We can't just post a picture of you not holding a baby and expect that to mean anything. We need a caption, preferably a clever or funny one."

"How about 'Sure I helped defeat Voldemort, but I'm not ready to be a mum yet,'" Harry said.

"Or 'Isn't it amazing that you can hold babies without having to give birth to one,'" Ginny said.

Hermione chuckled.

"Or," Luna said. "'Ron and I would like to have a family someday, but we'd like to be married first.'"

Hermione sobered and shook her head. "It can't say that."

"'Single witch, no kids," Harry suggested, which got him a swat from Ginny.

"It's not a personal ad," Ginny said.

"Maybe we should do an interview instead," Luna said, "And then I can ask about the photo and you can explain."

"I guess we could do that," Hermione said. "Only I can't talk about the war much because we're under a gag order about a lot of the goings on."

"Besides," Harry said. "I'd rather not announce that Teddy's a metamorphmagus, and people will suspect that if you say he's the same baby seen with me."

"Alright, then I'll just pose the question in the caption and answer it there," Luna said. "So, concerning that photo of you circulating that shows you holding a baby, is he yours?"

"No," Hermione said. "He's the son of a friend. Adorable, isn't he?"

"Perfect," Luna said.

They continued working on putting the _Quibbler_ together until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came in looking exhausted.

"I need a cup of tea," Mr. Weasley said and sat down on the sofa in the makeshift parlor.

"Me too," his wife said, dropping down next to him.

Luna filled the kettle and cast the spell to boil the water while Ginny got mugs out of the cabinet. She had to transfigure some glasses into mugs to have enough to go around.

"We should tell Ron and George, we're having tea," Luna said, and started cutting bread to make sandwiches.

"I'll do it," Hermione said and stepped out of the tent and stopped. Ron was chopping wood. He was sweaty and his shirt clung to him in the most enticing way. The edges of his hair were damp and curled around his ears and neck. All of the feelings she'd been trying to suppress for the last few days came flooding back and on the top of the list was lust.

Ginny ran into her as she came out of the tent. "Hey," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Um," Hermione said, straightening her shirt. "Uh."

Ginny chuckled. She could see what had stopped Hermione in her tracks. "You have really got it bad."

"Oh, do shut up," Hermione huffed.

Ginny laughed. "Oi!" she shouted. "Ron and George, come in for tea!"

Hermione was vaguely disappointed to see Ron cast a cleaning charm. She shook her head. She was definitely losing her mind, but this morning he'd seemed so…she wasn't sure…but when they were talking it felt like them talking and it had lifted her spirits considerably. She just had to be patient. There was a lot happening. She had to stop taking everything he did or didn't do personally. She knew better than to do that, but somehow, all the confidence she felt in other aspects of her life fell apart when dealing with Ron. Not that the other aspects of her life were going that great lately either. She sighed and went back into the tent.

Ginny and Harry moved the unfinished _Quibbler_ over to a sideboard and everyone crowded around the table for tea and sandwiches. Xenophilius returned and took a seat next to Luna. Ron sat next to Hermione like he did at home, but the table was crowded, so the whole right side of his body touched the whole left side of hers, which was extremely distracting. Her mind kept wandering back to the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. An involuntary shiver passed through her.

Ron looked at her. "Are you alright?"

Of course, he'd felt it too. "Fine," she said awkwardly.

He gave her an odd look and went back to his sandwich.

Across the table, Ginny was smirking at her. Hermione glared at her. Ginny chuckled.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing, just remembering something that happened at school," Ginny said.

Most of the talk at the table concerned the plans for rebuilding the Rook, which is what Luna called her home. Hermione tuned back in to the larger conversation.

"I think we can finish the underpinning today," Mr. Weasley was saying.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley agreed. "Another couple of hours and I think we'll have it stable."

"Right," Mr. Weasley concurred. "After that, it's just a matter of rebuilding the walls and then doing the interior. I have to work tomorrow, but if you lot clear the debris tomorrow, I can come after work and show you the spells to reconstruct the essentials and then the rest comes down to decorating."

"I can oversee those spells," Mrs. Weasley said.

Luna had tears in her eyes. "Thank you so much."

"Yes, yes," her father agreed in his hollow voice. "Too kind. Much too kind."

"We're neighbors," Mr. Weasley said. "Neighbors help each other. All in all, another few days or so and I can think you can move back in."

xXx

Everyone took juice and cookies and found places to sit around the garden. Ron sat on a log he hadn't chopped yet and scooted over to make room for Hermione, but was surprised that she sat on the ground next to him instead. She leaned slightly against his leg as she chatted with Luna about how the _Quibbler_ was distributed. She'd pulled her hair up into a sloppy bun and he found himself fascinated with her neck. Seemingly of its own volition, his thumb slid along the curve between her neck and shoulder. She leaned into his touch without a hitch in the conversation with Luna. Her olive skin was warm beneath his hand and he ached to feel more of it, but he was sitting in broad daylight with half his family and the Lovegoods. He let his hand rest for a moment longer before removing it and resting it on his thigh. He blew out a slow breath. He needed to calm down. For a moment, it seemed like Hermione didn't notice that he'd moved his hand, but then she leaned ever so slightly more against his leg.

His father stood. "We should be getting home. It's been a long day."

Xenophilius rose and shook Arthur's hand and then Molly's. "Thank you so much."

"I'll be back with the kids tomorrow and we'll start clearing the debris," Molly said.

"I'll come after work," Arthur said.

Luna nodded. "Thank you so much. We'll provide breakfast."

"How lovely," Molly said.


	11. Implications

When they arrived back at the Burrow, Molly asked Ginny and Hermione to help her with dinner. George disappeared up to his room and Harry asked Ron if he wanted a game of chess, but Arthur cleared his throat.

"Before you do that, could you help me with something in the shop, Ron. We won't be but a minute, Harry," Arthur said.

"Sure Dad," Ron said, and followed him into the garden.

His father didn't say anything else until they were in his workshop standing among various articles of Muggle paraphernalia. Ron wondered if Hermione knew what all this junk was.

"Ron," his father started. "Since you'll be at the Lovegoods' for the rest of the week, I thought it worth reminding you that they are the press."

"Luna's a friend, Dad," Ron said.

"I know, but her father runs a newspaper for a living, and like it or not, you three are news."

Ron didn't think Xenophilius seemed capable of running anything these days, but he kept that to himself. "Yeah, alright, well, the subject of an interview already came up and Hermione said we couldn't talk about the war right now and that was that."

"Good," his father said, "Because the other night, you mentioned Hermione taking you and Harry in double side-along Apparition and it's probably best not to tell anyone else that. You wouldn't want it to be misconstrued."

"What are you talking about? It's bloody brilliant she can do that," Ron said.

"Yes, of course, it is, but it's an unusual talent, especially in one so young, and given the circumstances... Well, you know how people talk. Best to keep it quiet."

Ron looked at him. "I don't—"

"Most people can't even do a single side-along," his father reminded him. "And those who can manage it, can generally only do it with their children or with those they're closest too, unless they've had specialized training."

"Well, it's hard to get closer than the three of us," Ron said. "We were crammed in that tent for months."

His father looked pained. "I know, son, I know, but now that the war is over, some things are best left unsaid. She already went through that business with Harry and Viktor Krum a few years ago."

"Those were bloody lies, Dad," Ron insisted, feeling his face heat up. "I told you that back then."

His father held up his palms. "I know that, son. I'm just saying, why feed the rumor mill?"

"The rumor mill?" Ron said, appalled. "She's a great girl. Brilliant. And she's saved my life multiple times; Harry's life multiple times. None of what Harry's done would have been possible without her. Do you understand that?" To his horror he realized he was crying.

His father reached to put his hand on Ron's shoulder, but Ron knocked it away. "Don't put your bloody hands on me! You don't know! You don't know what they did to her. What this cost her! You don't…" he choked on a sob.

"Ron," his father said softly, but Ron pushed past him and ran into the garden out the back gate and into the orchard. He kept running, as fast as he could, through the trees and past the Quidditch field until he found himself at the family cemetery. He stood panting and wiped his face on his sleeve. The worst part of what his father had said was that he himself had wondered about Hermione's ability to Apparate with him and Harry. When she'd done the double jump out of the Ministry to Grimmauld Place and into the woods, why had she only Splinched him? But that was before he'd abandoned them in the woods and he knew there was no truth to the rumors about the love triangle between Harry, Hermione, and Viktor. He knew it. Didn't he? He hated his own doubts. He hated that he might have driven them together after that by leaving them with no one but each other. He hated that it mattered to him. Harry had told him at Shell Cottage that he and Hermione hadn't gotten together while he was gone. Ron believed him, at least he thought he did, but always in the far recesses of his mind was this tiny voice saying maybe and that voice sounded a lot like the bloody locket. He opened the wrought iron gate and walked into the cemetery and over to Fred's grave. He didn't know why. It wasn't as if Fred was the kind of guy a bloke could go to for advice, at least Ron couldn't, or never had anyway. He sighed and looked at the grave. It was still hard to imagine that Fred wasn't back at the Burrow conspiring with George about their latest prank product. Instead, what was left of Fred was six feet under the ground right now. A shiver passed through him.

"What are you doing out here?" George said as he walked up behind him.

"Nothing," Ron said. "What about you?"

"I come up here most nights," George said with surprising candor.

Ron looked at him. "Do you talk to him?"

"No. He's dead so it would be a pretty boring conversation."

"What do you do up here then?" Ron asked.

"Same as you, nothing," George said. They both stood looking at Fred's grave. "We used to pretend to be each other, you know," George said. "Way past the point we should have outgrown it, we still did it, sometimes at the shop even. I don't know why, really, except we thought it was funny."

"I can see that," Ron said.

"Yeah, except now…dunno, it's done my head in a bit," George said sadly.

"How do you mean?"

"I just wonder was there ever a time, when we were very little say, when we forgot to switch back and then we just kept trading off because, we lost track somewhere of which one was which." He scratched his head. "Sometimes, I can't help wondering if that's really Fred in there, or if it's George, and I'm Fred. Mental, I know."

"Nah," Ron said. "I don't think that sounds so mental."

"Really?" George said, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe you're mental then."

Ron nodded. "Most likely."

"What's eating you?" George said.

"I don't know. Do you ever worry that you don't measure up, that you can't compete?"

"How so?" George asked.

"You know, like with a girl?"

George glared at him. "Are you trying to take the piss? Here?"

"What?" Ron said. "No. I'm being serious."

George scratched his head. "You better be because, honestly Ron, I will hurt you."

"Bloody hell, George. I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Angelina," George said. "Who else would I be talking about?"

"Oh," Ron said. He glanced down at Fred's grave. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh, so yeah, I know what it's like to worry about not measuring up. What are you talking about?"

"Um, well…" Ron really wasn't sure he should get into this, especially not with George of all people, but he couldn't talk to Harry and he certainly couldn't talk to Ginny. "It's Hermione," he finally said.

George snorted. "Yeah, I figured out that bit for myself. Who are you trying to measure up to, Krum? I can see how that would worry you but she dated him ages ago. I mean he was at the wedding but…"

"It's not just Krum," Ron said sourly.

"No?" George said, raising his eyebrows. "Well, go Granger."

"Shut up," Ron said.

"Come on, Ron, I'm only teasing," George said.

"Well, don't. Not about this. Anything but this."

"Hey," George said. "I'm sorry. You're really torn up. Why?"

"Dad just talked to me and told me that we shouldn't mention the double side-along Apparition to anyone else."

George chuckled. "Well, yeah. He told me, Percy and Charlie that too."

"Right," Ron said glumly.

George looked at him. "You think she slept with Harry? Huh, so it wasn't a threesome thing?"

"Hey!" Ron shouted.

George backed away and held up his palms in surrender. "Desperate times, Ron. No judging. It's obvious the three of you are very close."

"It wasn't like that!" Ron shouted. "We weren't out there on some perverted spa holiday, you know!"

"Okay, alright," George said. "But clearly you think she might have slept with Harry at some point or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Ron sighed. "I don't know. He says no, but…"

"You don't trust him?" George asked.

"I do, but if he felt like he was protecting her by saying that, then he would say it whether it was true or not."

"So, you don't trust him then," George said.

"To put the truth before Hermione, or me, for that matter, no," Ron said.

"Okay, then does it matter?"

"Well," Ron said, and then stopped. "I…what?"

"Say I saw them ages ago in an empty classroom at one o'clock in the morning and I could say to you definitively, yep, they were shagging, I saw it with my own eyes. What would you do?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, what would you do? Would you go back to the house and confront them? Would you kick her out? Punch him? Hex them both? What?"

"I wouldn't do any of that," Ron said, startled to realize it was true. "I mean, I'd be surprised because the idea of Harry and Hermione getting it on in an empty classroom is…" He shook his head. "So unlikely, but if it happened ages ago, well, it's nothing to do with me, is it? And given everything that's happened since, well…it doesn't change anything about now."

"So, you love her then," George said.

"What?" Ron said.

"Look, if she might've shagged your best mate sometime in the past and you don't care, then you definitely love her." He looked down at Fred's grave. "Oh, bloody hell."

"You alright?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," George said. "I'm going to go back, but for what it's worth, nothing about Harry and Hermione makes me think they were ever lovers. I don't know what she got up to with Krum or anyone else, but from where I'm sitting, that extraordinary girl is in love with you."

"Yeah?" Ron said. "You reckon?"

"Well, there's no accounting for taste," George said, and walked off.

Ron didn't bother with a retort and just watched him go. So, George was in love with Angelina and was worried he would never measure up to Fred. Ron thought that sounded a lot worse than his situation. He sighed, cast a charm to cover that he'd been crying (he really had to stop that) and walked back to the house.

His father was standing in the back garden when he came down the orchard path. "Ron?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

"About what we discussed—"

"I'll take care of it," Ron said.

"But—"

"I'll take care of it," Ron insisted and went inside.

Ginny was setting the table. Harry and Hermione were putting out platters of food.

"I need to talk to you two after dinner," Ron said to Harry and Hermione. They glanced at each other.

"Alright," Hermione said.

Harry nodded.

Dinner was unusually quiet. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Charlie's cheerful presence was sorely missed.

xXx

After dinner, the three of them trudged up to Ron's fifth floor bedroom. Ron closed the door behind him and cast Impreturb on it.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

Hermione just looked anxious.

"Dad had a security talk with me before dinner," Ron said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"He doesn't think we should mention that Hermione can do double side-along Apparition. He thinks if people know that, it could make her the obvious first target in a Death Eater attack, which could endanger all three of us, so we need to keep it quiet, like we do the Invisibility Cloak."

"That makes sense," Harry said.

"Sure," Hermione said, but her expression was hard to read. She still looked anxious, but it was different somehow, more upset.

"That's it," Ron said.

"Alright," Harry said, and opened the door, clearly eager to get back to Ginny.

Hermione looked as if she were going to say something, but then she followed Harry downstairs. Ron stayed in his room. He wondered if Hermione knew what her ability to Apparate with him and Harry at the same time implied. He wondered if Harry knew that the ease with which he Apparated with Ginny implied the same thing.

xXx

That night, as Arthur and Molly were getting ready for bed, Arthur said, "I talked to Ron."

"How did he take it?" Molly asked.

"Not well," Arthur said.

She sighed. "Oh, dear."

"It's not as though I accused them of anything," Arthur said. "I think the obvious explanation is that Hermione can Apparate with Harry so easily because she used Polyjuice Potion to be him when the Order went to get him from his Aunt and Uncle's house, and I think we both know why she can Apparate with Ron."

Molly sighed. "Yes." She shook her head. "I feel bad for those two. It can't be easy being here after months on their own as a couple."

Arthur shook his head. "I know Molly, but if we were to let them share a room, that would send entirely the wrong message to Ginny."

"But Arthur," Molly said. "You know Harry's been taking her side-along to all those funerals, so—"

"I know," he said. "But she's still underage and I just want…I was so hoping when he broke up with her before he left…"

"I know." Molly pulled back the covers and got into bed. "But I don't think she ever took that breakup seriously, and it certainly didn't take but a second for them to be right back together."

"I want her to go back to school," Arthur said. "I want her to get a few N.E.W.T.s but I mostly want her to get some distance from him."

"We can't force them apart," Molly said. "We shouldn't even try. That'll just bring them closer."

"I know." He sighed. "Of all people though. She's such a bright, beautiful girl, why did she have to choose him?

"He is a lovely young man," Molly said.

"But he's the Chosen One," Arthur said without irony. "Clearly there was some kind of connection between him and You-Know-Who. After everything she went through first year, why would she—"

"Maybe that's exactly why," Molly said. "Perhaps they're drawn together for that very reason."

"Which makes it all the more disturbing, don't you think?" Arthur said.

Molly nodded. "Yes, but I don't think there's much we can do about it."

Arthur got in bed next to her. "How did this happen?"

She sighed. "I don't know."

xXx

Late that night, after Ginny had fallen asleep, Hermione got up and sat in the window. The garden was still full of gnomes every night despite Ron's best efforts. She sighed. Ron. He'd lied to them tonight. She was sure she knew why his father had spoken to him about the double side-along Apparition. She wished she'd told Harry and Ron never to mention it, but it had slipped her mind in all the chaos at the end of the war, and then Ron had announced it at dinner. The three of them needed to talk about what they should and shouldn't say once they were able to talk about the past year. She wished she'd thought to do that right after the battle, but that ship had sailed. She was sure Ron's father had reminded him what her ability to Apparate with them both at the same time implied, not that she thought anyone that knew them actually thought she'd slept with both of them. After all, Ron's parents were in the Order, they knew Ron and Hermione had both taken Polyjuice to act as decoys to get Harry safely out of his Aunt and Uncle's house. Once you'd physically been someone it was simple to Apparate with them. Apparating with Ron was trickier, although at this point she'd done it so many times, it wasn't anymore. But of course, she'd Splinched him once, which he clearly didn't want anyone to know, since George was right, he never took his shirt off anymore. In summers past, he'd run around without a shirt all the time, causing his mother to constantly chase after him casting sunblock charms. A wave of guilt washed over her. Was he just never going to take off his shirt again? Just a couple of months ago, she'd yelled at him for constantly taking it off in front of her as though she was just another bloke. Now she found herself wishing he would take it off on those hot days when he was chopping wood. But the spiral scar on his bicep would raise too many questions that none of them were ready to answer. She felt so guilty for Splinching him. If she hadn't Splinched him, he'd have been better able to fight off the effects of the locket. She sighed and rested her head against the window frame. So many things were her fault.

xXx

The next few days were spent at the Lovegoods' repairing the house and helping Luna with the _Quibbler_. It was a huge undertaking to send out flocks of owls, and then the next issue had to be started. In the meantime, George and his mother worked construction spells with Ron and Harry while Ginny and Hermione helped Luna. Xenophilius wandered back and forth between the two groups handing out food and drinks. In the evenings, Mr. Weasley arrived to inspect the work, but never had to redo any of the spells. Finally, the structure was sound. As they were getting ready to go, Molly said, "We'll be back tomorrow, dear, to get the inside sorted and then you should be able to move back in."

"Thank you so much," Luna said. "I think it will help Daddy to be back in the house."

Molly hugged her. "We'll see you in the morning."

xXx

Fleur was sitting in the kitchen when they all arrived back at the Burrow. She stood when they came inside.

"Hullo, Fleur," Molly said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Fleur said. "Bill was sent last minute to Algeria to work on a cursed trunk, so I thought I'd come by and see if you needed anything."

Molly smiled at her. "It's good to see you. Stay for dinner. Stay the night."

"I don't want to intrude," Fleur said.

"You're family," Molly said warmly. "That's no intrusion."

"None at all," Arthur agreed.

"I'm glad you're here," Hermione said.

"Where were you all?" Fleur asked.

"At the Lovegoods' putting Luna's house back together," Harry said.

"What happened to it?" Fleur asked.

"It was damaged in the war," Ron said, putting his hand on the small of Hermione's back as he said it.

"We finally finished the structure today," Harry said.

"Tomorrow we start on the interior, if you want to come," Ginny added.

"Sure," Fleur said. "I'm sort of between jobs right now."

"Oh?" Molly said, putting the kettle on.

"I couldn't go to work at the bank during the war and they decided I wasn't needed."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, feeling a wave of guilt.

Ron looked at her.

"Don't be. I'm grateful they took Bill back, but then he had a more specialized job than I did. Anyway, I've got a lot of time on my hands right now, so I'd be happy to help at Luna's."

"Good," Molly said as she poured the tea.

Hermione went outside. The kitchen suddenly felt small and way too warm. Ron followed her.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked.

"Nothing. I just feel bad that Fleur lost her job because of us."

"That's not fair," Ron said. "It's not our fault the goblins are prats."

She glared at him. "We broke into their bank and destroyed large parts of the building escaping. That's absolutely our fault and it's understandable that they're angry about it."

"So, you're on the goblins' side now? You think we belong in Azkaban?" Ron said.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "Desperate times and all that, but I do see their side of it. I'm just sorry Fleur got punished because they couldn't punish us."

"Well, there's still time," Ron said grimly.

"True," Hermione said. "It occurred to me that while no one is going to put Harry in prison—"

"We might be fair game in the negotiations," Ron said.

"Well, given that Bill is part of those negotiations, probably not you," she said.

Ron's mouth dropped open. "No one is sending you to Azkaban."

She shrugged but teared up. "I'm the obvious choice if someone has to be sacrificed to calm down the goblins."

"Bill would let us know if it looked like it was going that way," Ron said, quietly. "We'd have warning. We'd leave."

"And be back on the run, really?"

"Yes," Ron said firmly. "We'd go to Europe or America, maybe."

She shook her head. "I couldn't ask you to do that."

"I didn't hear you ask," Ron said. "And you're not going without me." He put his arms around her. "It won't come to that though. They'll get it sorted. Shacklebolt is determined to right this. We'll be fine."

She pressed her face to his chest and breathed him in, taking comfort in the warm scent of him and the feel of his arms around her. In moments like these, she felt so safe, she thought he must love her as much as she loved him, otherwise how could he know exactly what she needed?

He kissed the top of her head and then rested his cheek there. It had been so long since they'd kissed. She wondered if it was odd to crave something she'd had so little of, she leaned back in his arms and tilted her head up, he looked down at her and their eyes met. He leaned in and the back door opened.

"Ron?" Fleur said, "Your mum, oh, I'm so sorry. I'm interrupting."

Hermione wanted to scream. She might end up in Azkaban anyway, if in a fit born of sheer frustration, she killed Ron's entire family.

Ron sighed. "No, you're fine. We were just talking. What does Mum need?"

"I offered to make Coq au Vin for dinner and she said you'd get me a couple of chickens," Fleur said.

"Sure," Ron said, he smiled sympathetically at Hermione. "You might want to go in for this bit. I mean, I know you did the spells for the rabbit, but—"

"I'll go in. I've got nothing to prove," Hermione said.

"Right," Ron said. "I'll only be a tic."

Hermione joined Fleur, who apologized again.

"It's fine," Hermione said.

"Did I hear Ron right?" Fleur asked. "You killed a rabbit?"

"Yes, it was already stunned though."

Fleur grimaced. "I was raised in Paris. You were raised in London. I feel like there are things city girls should not have to do."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, I heartily agree."

"Wine then?" Fleur said. "I brought a case of nice burgundy."

"Definitely," Hermione said.

"If you could chop the carrots, I will start on the onions," Fleur said, handing Hermione a glass of wine. "We will leave the bacon for Ron, that man loves to cook bacon."

"Not as much as he likes to eat it," Hermione said.

Fleur laughed. "Bill is the same. Not so much with the cooking, but definitely with the eating."

xXx

Ron came in with the cleaned and plucked chickens to find Hermione laughing and drinking wine with Fleur while charmed knives chopped onions and carrots on the counter behind them. The tableau stopped him in his tracks. Hermione was laughing, not politely, not nervously, but sincerely laughing, because something Fleur had said tickled her. He grinned.

"Ah, Ron," Fleur said. "I will cut up the chicken if you can start cooking the bacon."

"Sounds good," Ron said. He set the chickens on a cutting board and then washed his hands. The three of them worked together to finish dinner.

xXx

Late that night, Hermione and Ginny were getting ready for bed when Ginny said, "Alright, what am I missing?"

"What?" Hermione said as she got into bed.

"With Fleur, you two get along really well. I like you. You like her. What am I missing?"

"Oh," Hermione said. "I think you just haven't spent enough time with her. Fleur's really great. She and Bill took care of us. We stayed with them for several weeks while I recovered. And it wasn't just us. With no notice, they suddenly had seven extra people staying in their small cottage. Fleur handled all of the medical care and most of the cooking, although Ron started pitching in on that fairly early and Harry, Dean, and Luna started helping then too.

"But not you?" Ginny asked.

"I wasn't well. Besides, my kitchen skills are pretty rudimentary. Ron and Harry are both better cooks than I am. Anyway, Fleur took on all that as though it were planned out ahead of time."

Ginny nodded. "That is pretty impressive. And she clearly loves Bill."

Hermione smiled. "Very much."

"And he's barmy about her too, and Bill's not one to be barmy, so she must be pretty great."

"She really is. You should get to know her," Hermione said.

Ginny got into her own bed. "She's just so prissy and posh sometimes. Such a city girl."

Hermione shrugged. "So am I."

"Yeah, but you're not so…"

"Pretty?" Hermione guessed, with a half-smile.

"What? No," Ginny said. "I was going to say prissy. You're not afraid to feed the chickens or milk the cow. You aren't fussy."

Hermione laughed. "Please tell Ron and Harry I'm not fussy. Actually, can I get that in writing?"

"You know what I mean," Ginny said.

"Not really. I mean, I never fed the chickens or milked the cow any of the other times I've been here and I've stayed here a lot."

Ginny looked at her. "Yeah, I guess that's true. So, what changed?"

Hermione shrugged. "I just need to keep busy lately. Learning chores was a way to do that. To be honest though, I still don't like the chickens."

Ginny laughed but then sobered. "You are pretty, you know."

Hermione shook her head. "You're pretty. Fleur's pretty. On a good day, I look okay, but for several months now, I've just looked haggard."

"Okay," Ginny said. "I'll admit that when you first got here, you looked kind of rough. On the other hand, we'd just gone through a battle so, you know, so did everyone else, but since you've been here and those ruddy funerals are over, you look good."

Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear. "You think? I don't…I don't know…I'm not…I never used to worry about this stuff."

"So why are you now?" Ginny asked.

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. So much is happening that effects my life that I can't do anything about. I'm at loose ends. I don't even feel like myself. For months, I've been on edge. I'm just slow to come down, I guess."

"That makes sense," Ginny said. "Harry's going through the same thing. Ron too, I bet."

"Really?" Hermione said. "Because they seem to be handling it a lot better than I am."

Ginny laughed. "That's so not true. Harry's on edge all the time. Why do you think we're constantly taking walks and tossing the Quaffle around? He can't sit still and he never wants me out of his sight. Sleeping apart is killing him. It's not doing much for me either."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize he was having such a hard time. Although, given what he's been through, that makes sense."

"I know, right?" Ginny said. "Given the amount of chores Ron is doing lately, he doesn't seem to be managing all that well either."

Hermione sighed. "He doesn't talk to me. If I'm having a hard time, he's there for me, but when I ask how he's doing, he just says 'fine.' The only thing we've talked about is jobs and that he wants a flat."

Ginny snorted. "Of course, he does. It's a nightmare around here."

"And yet," Hermione said, "you and Harry seem to manage."

"Barely," Ginny said.

"Barely is a lot better than we're doing," Hermione said. She hated that she didn't seem able to comfort Ron at all. She took so much comfort from his presence. She wished he felt the same about her, but instead, he seemed to pull away from her. She wanted to reach him. She knew he was hurting. He had to be, but she didn't know what to say, what to do, to make him feel better.

"I think you're probably doing fine given the circumstances," Ginny said.

"I feel like I should be doing more," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "But that's just you, isn't it? Take a breath, Hermione. Things will change soon enough. Enjoy the break while you have it."

Hermione nodded.

"G'night," Ginny said. "Nox." The room fell dark.

Hermione lay in bed for a long time thinking about what Ginny had said. She was right. Things were going to change soon enough. Hermione just hoped they would change for the better.


	12. Acrophobia

The next morning, they were all back at the Rook to paint and set up the house. With everyone helping, they were done before noon. Luna hugged everyone and thanked them profusely before they all Apparated back to the Burrow.

Molly made lunch. While everyone was sitting around the table, Harry suggested, that since they had six players, they should play three-on-three Quidditch, no Snitch, no Beaters.

"I'm up for that," Ron said.

"Me too," Ginny said.

"Alright," Fleur agreed. "I never played on a house team though, so I doubt I'm up to your standards."

"No problem," George said. "We'll go easy. Besides, if you can catch the Quaffle and stay on your broom, you're better than Granger."

Hermione moaned. "Please don't make me play."

"You have to play," Harry said, "or we won't have even teams."

"You won't have even teams if I do play," Hermione said.

"Come on," Ron said. "You can be on my team. George you come with us. Fleur can go with Harry and Ginny."

They all went out to the broom shed with Hermione bringing up a reluctant rear. Ron gave her an old Cleansweep Five. "It's a good broom," he said. "It's not too fast but it's easy to handle. You'll do fine."

Hermione sighed and followed the rest of them through the orchard to the field where they played Quidditch. It took her three tries to get the broom aloft and she spent most of her time in the air just trying to keep her seat. The others played what amounted to two-on-three Quidditch. Fleur was better than she'd let on. Not long after they started, Hermione was profoundly relieved to see Angelina Johnson fly up.

"Oi," Angelina shouted. "I came to see if you wanted a fly, Georgie, but I see you're busy."

George flew over to her. "Come play with us."

"Yes, please," Hermione said quickly. "You can have my spot." She was descending before Angelina had a chance to answer.

Hermione parked herself under a pear tree and enjoyed watching the others play for the next hour. When they finally took a break, Hermione Apparated back to the Burrow and then reappeared with a tray of cups and a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

Angelina looked at her. "Impressive. If I'd tried that, we'd all be doused in juice."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks. If only I were half as good at flying."

"You just need a bit of practice," Ron said. "We've never really worked on it before, but I bet if we put in a little time, you'd be flying like a pro soon as."

Hermione started to agree if only to have time alone with him when Fleur said, "I'm surprised you're not better given all the time Viktor spent teaching you."

"Oh," Ron said.

Hermione felt her face go hot. "Well," she stammered. "That was ages ago. Perhaps now that I'm older—"

"Nah," Ron said. "Forget it. If the best broomsman in the last three hundred years can't teach you, I doubt I'd do you much good." He walked off toward the house.

Hermione turned and went in the opposite direction.

Fleur soon caught up to her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that was a sore subject."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not your fault."

"It is. I shouldn't have said anything," Fleur said apologetically. "Of course, it bothers Ron that you dated Viktor. It was just so long ago, I didn't think."

Hermione stopped and looked at her. "It was a long time ago. It feels like a lifetime." She shook her head. "Anyway, so I dated Viktor, so what? He tried to teach me to fly. What's that to do with anything? I'm terrible on a broom. A witch who can't fly, how ridiculous is that? A witch on a broom is so iconic even Muggles know about it, but here I am, can't fly for love or money. Pathetic."

"You're hardly pathetic," Fleur said. "Why would you even want to fly when you can Apparate like you do? Seriously?"

"Because Ron loves to fly and periodically he wants me to do something like play three-on-three Quidditch and I have some kind of brain lapse and agree and…" She shook her head again. "It never goes well, so it's not your fault. Today is just one in a long string of disastrous days of me attempting to fly a broom."

Fleur put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. Want to go back?"

"No. You go ahead. I'm going to walk for a while. If I go back now, Ron will just be a prat."

Fleur sighed. "Alright. I'll see you later."

xXx

Hermione walked down to the pond and was surprised to see Ron standing in the gazebo. He must have circled around the other way. She considered turning around before he saw her, but decided that was cowardly. She stepped up on to the gazebo and went to stand next to him at the rail. He glanced at her, but then looked away again. She chose not to say anything. She felt like too often she pushed him to say something before he was ready. She was trying not to do that anymore, but it went against her nature to wait. She blew out a calming breath and told herself to relax. They had nowhere to be, nothing to do, she could wait. He kept glancing at her, but she held fast. He would have to speak first or they would just stand in agonizing silence.

Finally, Ron said, "What was it like?"

"What was what like?" Hermione asked.

"Getting flying lessons from Viktor Krum?"

"Oh. Embarrassing," she answered honestly. "I was terrible. Even worse then, than I am now."

Ron cocked his head at her. "I don't understand the problem. You're not uncoordinated. You run well, dance well, and magically, you're amazing."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't like heights is a lot of it."

"But," Ron said, "you got on the dragon."

"Yes, but only because it was the only way out and I was terrified the whole time. It probably would have been worse if I hadn't been in so much pain."

Ron grimaced. "Yeah, that was pretty awful."

"Right?"

"Hang on, is that why you always stayed by the door in Astronomy class."

Hermione nodded.

"How did I never know you were afraid of heights?" Ron said, shaking his head.

"It's not a crippling fear or anything, it's just embarrassing. I don't announce it," Hermione said.

"It's embarrassing to be afraid of spiders," Ron said. "I should have noticed you were afraid of heights."

She shrugged. "I'm glad you didn't. Otherwise, you might have been worried about me when you should have been dealing with other things. I handle it. I've managed to cope when I've needed to, but flying on a broom for fun just isn't in the cards for me."

He smiled at her. "And yet you're the one who got flying lessons from Viktor Krum." He shook his head again. "Do you have any idea what your average Quidditch player would give for an hour's worth of lessons from him."

"I imagine quite a lot. I'm sorry you didn't get the opportunity."

"Me too. You couldn't help a mate out?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

He blushed. "I guess I didn't really make that possible."

"No," she said.

He glanced away from her. "I was just jealous."

"Of me or of Viktor?" she teased.

He quirked his lips and tried not to smile. "A little of both."

She chuckled. "That's fair."

xXx

Ron was pleased that they could laugh about it. He'd regretted stomping off within moments. He particularly regretted that he'd done it in front of everyone, but now Hermione was standing there chuckling at his joke. He loved her smile and loved eliciting a laugh from her. He liked the way the sunlight played in her curls. He had an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her. The problem was he didn't just want to kiss her. Touching her neck, the other day at the Lovegoods', had been a serious lapse in judgement. He'd found himself desperate to slide his hand further down and they were surrounded by his family then. He felt so out of control around her and he hated it. How Harry and Ginny could so casually kiss each other good night or hold hands in the garden befuddled him. Every time he touched Hermione his mind went careening toward sex. Was he just a giant pervert or was it that Harry and Ginny had already had sex so they were calmer about the whole thing? He wanted to be calmer. He wanted to be cool about it, as though he weren't bothered, when in reality, he was extremely bothered. He didn't know how other blokes managed this bit. He wasn't even sure Hermione was his girl. It seemed like she was sometimes. Most of the time, really. He wanted to ask, but then if she thought they were a couple, and he asked, she'd be hurt and likely offended. He'd tried to tiptoe around the subject when he'd brought up taking her on a proper date, but that seemed to backfire and she was cool to him for a few days after that, so he hadn't mentioned it again. It was stupid anyway. She wouldn't want to go backwards and he certainly didn't. He wanted to go forward, very far forward. He didn't want to stop at a shag, he wanted to marry her, he wanted her to have his children, he wanted to wake up next to her every morning for the rest of his life, but he couldn't say any of that. He'd likely scare her away if he piled all his need on her in one big go. He had to relax, but it was difficult when he felt so on edge.

Despite the intervening weeks, he still felt like they were at war. He was on heightened alert. He still never slept more than a few hours at a stretch. He kept waking up to take his turn at watch. He kept having nightmares. By far the most pervasive was the one in which he was stuck in the cellar of Malfoy Manor unable to get to Hermione while she screamed. Her screams haunted many of his nights, but when they didn't, those soft little noises she'd made in bed with him the night after the last battle woke him sweaty and hard. She was making him crazy and she wasn't doing anything except walking around living her life. She was leaning against the railing staring out at the pond in a perfectly innocent manner and all he could think about was what she would look like naked in that position and what he'd like to do to her if she was. He shook his head to clear the image.

"Oi," Ginny said, as she and Harry walked down the path to the pond. "Come join us for a swim. It's bloody hot today."

"I don't have a suit," Hermione said. Ron bit back a moan.

"You can borrow one of mine," Ginny said. Ron looked at the bikini Ginny was wearing and thought Hermione would look smashing in it, but his hopes were dashed.

"That's alright," Hermione said. "I've had enough sun. I think I'll go read." She looked at Ron.

"I think I'll finish chopping wood," he said. "Or I might take a nap. Maybe both."

"Alright," she said. She stood there worrying her bottom lip for a moment before walking back to the house.

xXx

She didn't understand Ron, but she was happy they seemed to have resolved the Viktor issue without it erupting into a full-blown row. She'd have to try waiting for him to speak first again. At least he hadn't pressed her about flying lessons with Viktor, otherwise she would have had to choose between lying to him or risking a real row with the truth.

Viktor had quickly assessed her problem on a broom. On their third attempt at getting her comfortable in the air, he had announced that flying wasn't for everyone and she had other talents. He did however, keep the Tuesday evening reservation of the pitch. They spent most of their time in a tucked away corner of the stadium chatting and snogging. She wouldn't be sharing that part of the story with Ron. She'd thought Ron was going to kiss her in the gazebo, but then he hadn't. Sometimes, she deeply regretted her decision to let him make the next move. He had touched her neck in the Lovegoods' garden in what could only be interpreted as a sensual manner, but it wasn't as if it could have gone anywhere given that they had an audience, so she wasn't sure what he'd meant by it, if anything, but then it's not as if it could have been an accidental gesture. She let out a quiet groan. He was making her crazy. She needed something else to focus on, but there wasn't anything, at least not until she got the letter from Hogwarts. If McGonagall would just send that out, then she could at least start revisions. She stopped. She didn't really need the letter to do that. Since it was independent study to challenge the exams, she could start revisions now. Revisions. Revisions were exactly what she needed. She picked up her pace back to the house.

xXx

Molly was in the kitchen reading _Witch Weekly_ when Hermione came into the kitchen. "Hullo, dear, I think the others are going down to the pond for a swim."

"Yes," Hermione said. "I saw Harry and Ginny."

George went through the kitchen in his swim trunks with a towel over his shoulder. "You coming, Granger?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said, and turned back to Mrs. Weasley. "Do you have any books, besides Beedle the Bard that are written in Ancient Runes?"

"Several, are you looking for anything specific?" Molly asked.

"No, just advanced reading."

"Those are all in the bookcase in our room."

"Oh," Hermione said. She'd never been in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom.

"Come on then, I'll show you."

Hermione followed her upstairs where they met Fleur on the landing. She was in a deep blue swimsuit, with a matching sarong tied around her waist. "Are you coming swimming?" she asked Hermione.

"No," Hermione said.

"Why?" Fleur asked. "It's such a hot day. If you're worried about the plaster on your neck, we can make it watertight."

"It's not that," Hermione said. "I just don't feel like it."

Fleur gave her a concerned look but said, "Alright," and continued downstairs.

Hermione followed Mrs. Weasley into her bedroom. She wasn't sure what she'd expected but she was surprised by how large it was. There was a king-sized bed and a sitting area and an ensuite bathroom. In essence, their bedroom was a haven from the chaos that was the Burrow. Hermione had a new appreciation for Ron's parents and understood why they went to bed early so often. There was a large bookcase that covered one wall at the end of the room. Molly pointed out that on three of the overflowing shelves were books written in Ancient Runes. "I'm sure something in here will suit you," Molly said.

"This is perfect," Hermione said as she scanned the spines. "Do you mind if I borrow two or three?"

"Go right ahead. I'm the only one who reads them anyway."

"Thank you," Hermione said, reaching for a book on the history of Viking magic.

"That's a very interesting book," Molly said. Hermione set it aside and continued looking. "Why are you planning to spend the day reading instead of swimming with the others?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just in the mood to read, I guess."

Molly made a tutting sound. "What's the matter? Ron hasn't come back for a swimsuit either."

"It's nothing," Hermione said.

"Have you two had a row?" Molly asked.

"No. It's nothing to do with Ron. I just don't have a suit. Ginny offered me one of hers, but—"

Molly frowned. "They're much too revealing." She shook her head. "That girl."

"It's not that. I'd be happy to wear one, only, I don't like for the scar to show."

Molly cocked her head at her. "I don't understand. Fleur told you we can make the plaster water tight."

"I'm not talking about my neck. I'm talking about the one on my chest from fifth year. My bathing suits cover it, but none of Ginny's would."

"Oh," Molly said. "I didn't realize…well of course, that makes sense. I could take you shopping."

Hermione shook her head. "There's no need. I'm fine. I'm not a keen swimmer anyway."

"If you're sure."

"I am." Hermione said, and reached for a volume on goblins. Perhaps it would give her some insight into the goings-on at Gringott's.

"Bill gave me that last Christmas," Molly said. "Very interesting. Fascinating creatures, goblins."

Hermione leaned over to look at the next shelf.

"So, why doesn't Ron take off his shirt anymore?" Molly asked.

Hermione stopped looking at the books and stood up straight. "You'd have to ask him."

"I'm asking you."

Hermione sighed and turned around to face Ron's very concerned mother. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you unless he asks me to."

Molly frowned.

Hermione stood straighter.

"Impressive loyalty between you three," Molly finally said.

"It's the only thing that kept us alive," Hermione answered honestly.

Molly nodded. "Take whatever you like," she said and started for the door.

"I'll just start with these two," Hermione said and followed her out, closing the door to the sanctuary behind her.

xXx

Unfortunate timing had Ron walking into the kitchen from the garden just as Hermione and his mother came downstairs.

"Ah," Molly said. "This is perfect then. Ron take off your shirt."

"What?" Ron said.

"You heard me. I want to see what you've been hiding. If you've gone and gotten some ridiculous tattoo like Charlie—"

"Mum—" Ron said.

"I want to see. I insist actually."

Ron looked at Hermione who seemed on the verge of tears. "No."

"Don't you tell me no!" his mother shouted. "I gave birth to you! No is not an option!"

Ron frowned. His mother was impossible and there was no way she'd let this go now that she'd started. She'd enlist his father and his brothers and Ginny and they'd badger him to death until they all knew and it would be horrible. "Fine," Ron said. "But this isn't for mass consumption. You can tell dad, but no one else."

His mother looked scared for a moment, but she nodded her head.

"Come on, I don't want anyone walking in," Ron said as he headed for the stairs. His mother and Hermione followed. "Where are you going?" Ron asked Hermione.

"With you," she said.

"No," Ron said. "You don't need to be part of this."

"I am part of it. I'll not have you take the blame for something that's my fault."

"It's not your bloody fault," Ron growled.

"Let's just go upstairs," his mother said. We can sort this out in our room." She led the way and Ron and Hermione followed. Once inside his parents' bedroom, he closed the door and stood facing the two women. "When we escaped from the Ministry, we Disapparated. It was a panic move, so Hermione took all three of us instead of us going separately. Unfortunately, some goon managed to grab her foot as we Disapparated."

"You Disapparated with four people?" Molly said.

Hermione nodded, tearing up. "I was already going when he grabbed me. It was too late to stop and since you can't talk while Disapparating, there was no way to tell Ron and Harry what was happening. I couldn't shake him off until we got to Grimmauld Place, but that broke the Fidelius Charm, so I had to immediately take us somewhere else. I chose the Forest of Dean. That's when I Splinched Ron. I'm so sorry."

"Let me see," his mother said.

Ron pulled off his T-shirt and his mother made a little cry and ran her fingers over the spiral scar around the missing chunk at the top of his bicep. "Oh, Ron," she gasped.

"I'm fine, Mum. Don't fuss now. It's fine. Hermione took care of me. Tell her," he turned but Hermione wasn't in the room. Ron went across the hall to Ginny's room. Hermione was crying and shoving clothes as quickly as she could into her beaded bag. "What are you doing?"

"Going," she choked out.

"Are you mad?" Ron said.

"You think your mum will be able to stand the sight of me now that she knows I've Splinched you?"

"Yes, because you saved my life, and more importantly Harry's, in the process."

She paused and looked at him. "I don't think she's likely to see it that way."

"But I see it that way," Ron said. "And you should see it that way too. You can't leave. The Auror's haven't even cleared your parents' place yet."

"I can put wards around the shed. I've already stayed there, so I know it's safe. I'll be fine."

"Bollocks! You aren't going anywhere!" Ron roared.

"Oh, there you are," his mother said, stepping into the room as though Ron weren't just shouting. "You brilliant girl," she said and hurried over to Hermione and hugged her. "You brilliant, brilliant girl."

Hermione shook her head. "But I Splinched him," she choked out.

Molly nodded and continued hugging her. "That must have been so frightening."

"Maybe I should have landed at Grimmauld Place, we might have been able to fight him off together," Hermione said weakly.

"Bollocks," Ron scoffed. "The second he landed he would've touched his Dark Mark and then we would've been surrounded by Death Eaters. You would've been mad to land."

"He's right," his mother said, holding Hermione by the shoulders. "You did the only thing you could've done and you saved all three of you."

"But," Hermione said, wiping her cheeks with her hand.

"And," his mother continued, looking at Ron's shoulder. "You did a nice job with the healing."

"We had Essence of Dittany and Blood Replenishing Potion," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron said. "And we had them because you packed them and the tent and loads of other stuff we needed in that little bag of yours and kept it with you all the time." He looked at her. "And you still do, don't you?"

She blushed as she nodded. "I haven't quite been able to let go of it yet."

His mother put her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "All in good time, dear. No need to rush until you're ready. I think I'll go make some tea, maybe open a packet of biscuits. I'm a bit peckish."

"Sounds good, Mum," Ron said. He was surprised his mother shut the door behind her as she left the room.

"I don't understand," Hermione said, clearly stunned by his mother's reaction.

Ron sat on the edge of her bed. "Because you're mental and she's not." Hermione frowned at him and he took her hands in his. "War is dangerous business. I got hurt doing something we knew was dangerous that could have gotten us all killed. We knew that going in. The fact that all three of us survived is a bloody miracle. You know that."

"But if—"

"Stop doing that," Ron said. "Stop second guessing yourself. You did the best you could in the moment. That's all any of us can do in situations like that."

She ran her fingers lightly over the scar and his flesh goose pimpled. "I still have nightmares about this."

"I know, but that's all they are. They don't mean anything. You saved us all. That's what matters." He pulled her to him and rested his forehead against her chest. She rested her head on top of his. Her hands were cool and felt good against the warm skin on the back of his neck. He wanted to nuzzle her, wanted to slip off her shirt to feel her skin against his. He wanted so many things, but as usual, this was neither the time nor the place. He could hear the others coming in downstairs. "I should get dressed," he said reluctantly.

She backed away from him. Her eyes were dark and the tip of her tongue lightly touched her top lip as he pulled his T-shirt back on. Not for the first time, he wondered if she was thinking along the same lines he was.

The door burst open and Ginny entered laughing. "A snapping turtle bit George. You should see him hopping around downstairs. Oh, hey." She stopped. "Um…"

Ron cleared his throat. "I hope Mum doesn't heal it before I get down there," he said and hurried out of the room.

xXx

"I'm sorry," Ginny said to Hermione. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No."

"Then what's going on? You've been crying."

Hermione sighed. She'd forgotten to cast the charm to cover her tears. "I'm fine, just a rough morning. I shouldn't be such a baby."

"So, you two weren't having a row?"

"No."

"Alright," Ginny said, but she didn't seem sure.

Hermione picked up the book on the history of Viking magic and left Ginny to get changed. Everyone else was still in the kitchen where George was sitting on one of the benches examining his now healed foot. His mother was putting away her wand.

"You big baby," Angelina was saying to George.

"Ang, that's not fair," George said. "Did you see the size of that turtle. It could have bitten off a toe. I've already lost an ear!"

Harry laughed. "Come on, that turtle was tiny, probably only a few weeks old."

"Since when are you a turtle expert?" George said.

"Why did you walk all the way back here to heal it?" Hermione asked. She looked at Fleur. "Did you not have your wand?"

"Oh, I had it," Fleur said dryly. "Someone was too scared to let me heal him."

Hermione gave George a withering look. "You're an idiot."

"Oi, hey!" George said, looking at Ron. "Are you going to let her talk to me like that?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah, cause she's right. Fleur is a medic. She's great with healing spells. She certainly could have handled a tiny turtle bite."

"It wasn't tiny!" George insisted. "What do you know? You weren't even there."

"I know Fleur's a good healer," Ron said. "She took care of Hermione and Griphook and Mr. Ollivander."

"Hermione's still got a plaster on her neck!" George said. "How good could Fleur be?"

Ron frowned at him. "It was a cursed knife. That's not Fleur's fault."

"Ron," Hermione gasped behind him.

All eyes turned to her.

"Someone slit your throat?" Angelina said, her eyes wide with surprise.

Hermione stood there blinking, not sure how to explain, not sure what she was supposed to say or not say.

"Yes," Molly said. "But we're not going to talk about it anymore. You lot should either go back down to the pond or go get changed. I'm tired of you dripping in my kitchen."

No one moved.

"Go on then!" Molly said sternly.

George took Angelina's hand and they went back outside. Fleur squeezed Hermione's arm affectionately before going upstairs to change.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked Hermione. She nodded.

"I'm so sorry," Ron said.

"Don't be," Hermione said. "George and Angelina were the only ones who didn't know anyway. It's not as though we can't trust them. It's fine. I think I'm going to go read in the garden."

Ron watched her go. "What is wrong with me?" he said.

"Nothing," Harry said. "She's right, most of us already knew."

Ron shook his head. "That's not the problem."

"Then what is?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head again. "Never mind." He went upstairs.

Only Harry and Molly were left in the kitchen. "I think I'll go shower," Harry said.

"Alright, dear," Molly said.

xXx

When Fleur came back downstairs, she went outside to find Hermione. She found her on a bench in the shade of the large ash tree at the back of the garden. Hermione was reading, but had a piece of parchment and a quill next to her. Fleur sat down. Hermione tucked the parchment into the book and closed it.

"Are you alright?" Fleur asked her.

"I'm fine."

"Are you really or are you just saying that?" Fleur asked.

"I am. Seriously, I don't care if George and Angelina know," Hermione said. "Not really. It's just kind of jarring to hear it mentioned." She sighed. "I know that doesn't make sense. It's hard to explain."

"It does make sense. You go along and kind of forget about it, but then someone mentions it and it all comes flooding back. I get that."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Not that I've ever been attacked like that, but being a Triwizard Champion had some unforeseen consequences. These days I never think about it, until someone else brings it up, and then it's like I'm right back in it. The nightmare of the tasks, failing to get Gabrielle, Cedric dying, all of it. I know it's not the same, but—"

"No," Hermione said. "That's exactly what it's like."

"Has it healed anymore since the last time I saw it?" Fleur asked.

"Actually, it has. I think I might try it without the plaster by the end of the week."

"Good," Fleur said. "So, I don't suppose I can coax you into helping me make cassoulet for dinner by plying you with good wine?"

Hermione smiled. "You could probably do it with cheap wine."

Fleur huffed. "I don't drink cheap wine."

Hermione chuckled. "Then let's go drink the good stuff."

"Yes!" Fleur said, and they went back into the house.

As they walked, Hermione said, "Perhaps we should ask Ginny to help."

Fleur grimaced. "She doesn't like me."

"She doesn't really know you, besides before the wedding, you were…"

"I was awful," Fleur said, putting a hand over her face. "I was nervous. I don't do well when I'm nervous and Maman makes me very nervous."

"Really?" Hermione said. "She seems so nice."

"Oh, don't misunderstand," Fleur said. "Maman is nice, very nice, but it's just…when we are together…" Fleur shook her head, causing a stunning cascade of blonde hair. "It's a lot of Veela in one place and that's never good."

"You didn't seem nervous," Hermione said.

"I know, but when I'm nervous, I get bitchy. Bill kept telling me to calm down. I tried. I really did, but mostly I failed."

"I'm sorry." Hermione said. "Whenever I'm nervous, I overcompensate by trying to be perfect, so I come across—"

"Like you think you're better than everyone else?" Fleur said.

"Right. Luckily, I've had most of that beaten out of me over the last year."

Fleur chuckled. "Is that lucky?"

Hermione smiled. "I'm going to say 'yes,' because I'm too tired to cry."

Fleur linked her arm with Hermione's. "We are going to drink so much wine tonight."


	13. Crookshanks

After pacing in his room for awhile, Ron decided the best way to handle his gaff was to take Hermione at her word and not make a big deal of it. He went downstairs to offer to help with dinner, but was surprised to see his mother in the parlor reading and Fleur, Hermione, and Ginny in the kitchen making dinner, or rather Fleur and Ginny were making dinner. Hermione was leaning against the counter drinking a glass of wine.

"I can't believe you skinned a rabbit," Ginny said. "I was raised on a farm and I've never done that."

Hermione swallowed a sip of wine. "It was right after I blew holes in Luna's house. I guess, I figured if I could do that, I ought to at least contribute to dinner, you know?"

"No," Fleur said. "That makes no sense."

"None at all," Ginny said.

"I know," Hermione said. "I don't know what I was thinking." She had another sip of wine.

"You did a fine job of it though," Ron said, coming into the kitchen.

"Oh, there's a shocker," Ginny said. "Hermione can do a spell well."

"It was so awful," Hermione said. "I'm sorry you were the one who did it all the time," she said to Ron.

He shrugged. "It doesn't bother me so much. Do you need any help with dinner?"

"I think we've got it," Fleur said.

"It's going a lot faster now that I've stopped helping," Hermione said, and poured herself another glass of wine. "I might be good at spells, but I'm definitely better at some than others."

"Your cooking spells are fine," Fleur assured her. "Ginny's are just a bit better."

"Oh, please," Hermione said. "I saw you cast another chopping spell on those carrots last night."

"I just wanted them cut a bit smaller, that's all," Fleur said.

Hermione shrugged. "At least I'm better in the kitchen than I am on a broom."

"That's certainly true," Ron said. "Which is too bad, it'd be fun to fly with you."

"You could always take her on your broom," Ginny said, waggling her eyebrows at him.

"Nah," Ron said. "Our Hermione's just not one to fly. Since you all have this, I'll go out and feed the animals."

"Seriously?" Ginny said, after the door closed behind Ron. "You don't even like to ride on the back of a broom."

"Not really, no. Not that I've done much of that, but between hippogriffs, dragons, and brooms, if I never fly again, it'll be too soon."

"Dragons?" Fleur said. "Are you saying the rumors are true?"

"I'm not saying anything," Hermione said and drank her wine.

xXx

During dinner, Ron sat next to Hermione like he always did, but was shocked when to get his attention to back her up on a story about Madam Hooch, she squeezed his thigh and then left her hand there for the rest of the meal. He didn't know what to do. Hermione was not one for public displays of affection. She was quite private in that regard, which left him to wonder exactly how much wine she'd had tonight. Her hand on his thigh was difficult to ignore. The last thing he wanted was a stiffy at the dinner table, but he also didn't want her to take her hand away. That hand was wonderful and disorienting. She giggled at something George said, that Ron had missed, because he couldn't concentrate on anything but where her hand was. Another bottle of wine was passed around and Hermione refilled her glass. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "How many of those have you had?"

She shrugged and said something to Fleur about a museum in Paris. While she was distracted, he switched her full wine glass with his almost empty one. She didn't notice the exchange, but when he looked across the table, it was clear Ginny had. She raised her eyebrows at him. He ignored her. The very idea of a drunk Hermione made him nervous. He couldn't help wondering if this was how she felt when he'd gotten drunk. He was relieved when his mum began handing out pieces of Victoria sponge. At least dessert signaled the end of dinner. Then he realized that the end of dinner meant Hermione would be up and moving around. He blamed Fleur for bringing so much wine. George and Angelina offered to do the dishes.

When Hermione stood to leave the table, Ron did too. She turned and bumped into him. He caught her arm to keep her from falling back and she overcompensated and bumped into him again. This time she left her face pressed into his chest for just a moment too long before mumbling. "You smell good." He hoped no one else had heard in the hubbub of clearing the table.

"You should probably have a glass of water," Ron said.

"I'm fine with wine," she said, and picked up the full glass he'd swapped for his almost empty one earlier.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" he asked quietly.

She rolled her eyes. "You sound like my mum." She stopped and her face fell. "I really miss my mum."

"I know you do," Ron said gently and steered her to the back door. "Perhaps a bit of fresh air will do you good."

"We should have a fire," Hermione said in a louder voice. "Why don't we ever have a fire anymore? We used to always have one."

"It's summer for one thing," Harry said.

"And we're not camping," Ron said.

"It is a cool night though," Ginny said. "I think we've got rain moving in. A fire in the garden might be nice."

"Yes," his mum said. "It would be."

"Um, alright," Ron said. He opened the door for Hermione and ushered her outside before she announced any other plans. He was relieved that no one else immediately followed them out. Hermione began pulling various chairs and benches around the firepit, while he grabbed some wood from the enormous pile he'd made and got it arranged in the pit with some kindling, but before he could draw his wand, Hermione snapped her fingers and the kindling ignited. "Oi," Ron said, stepping back as the flames rose higher. "You want to tame that down a bit."

"Oops," Hermione said with a giggle and held out her thumb and index finger and squeezed them together, causing the flames to reduce in size. Ron had noticed her doing more and more wandless magic lately. She smiled at him. "Better?"

"Yeah," he said. She was both adorable and terrifyingly unpredictable like this. It was going to be a long night.

She had another drink of wine and sidled up to him and ran a hand up his chest. "You know what else it's been a long time since we've had?"

"Um," he glanced nervously at the back door.

"A good snog," she said. "I'd like a good snog."

"Okay, well, only problem is you've invited everyone out to sit around the fire, haven't you?"

"Why did I do that?" she said, crestfallen.

He smiled. "Dunno."

She ran her thumb over his bottom lip. "I like the way your mouth tastes."

He grabbed her hand. "Yeah, I like yours too, but now really isn't—"

Ginny and Harry came out. Ginny was carrying a radio.

Hermione made such a sad face, it was all he could do not to laugh.

"I thought a little music would be nice," Ginny said.

"Is it just magical radio or does it pick up Muggle stations too?" Hermione asked.

"I think it's just magical," Ginny said, scrolling through the dials.

"That's too bad," Hermione said. "Muggle radio has more music."

Fleur came outside with another bottle of wine.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Ron grumbled.

Hermione hugged Fleur, who laughed. "Someone's feeling good," Fleur said.

His parents came out to join them followed shortly thereafter by George and Angelina.

Ginny finally found a station playing contemporary music that was a mix of magical and Muggle groups. In school, Lee Jordan had once explained that musicians who were Half-bloods or Muggleborn generally played for both Muggle and Magical audiences because there was so much more money to be made in the Muggle world since the Magical community was so small. There were Pureblood groups, like the Weird Sisters, that only played for Magical audiences, but there weren't many of them.

"Ah," his mum said, sitting on a bench and stretching her legs out toward the fire. "This is nice."

"Yes," his dad said, sitting next to her. "It's a lovely night. Cooler than we've had lately."

"Ginny's right though," Angelina said. "They're calling for rain the rest of the week. June is supposed to be pretty wet this year." She sat on the other bench Hermione had dragged over and George sat next to her. Ron dropped into one of the chairs and Hermione shocked him by plopping down on his lap. Like at dinner, when she had her hand on his thigh, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to draw attention to the fact that she was sitting on his lap, but it wasn't like anyone was going to miss it either. She leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes, so he decided to leave her where she was.

Harry caught his eye and raised his eyebrows. Ron gave him a slight shrug in response. After all, he could hardly make her go sit by herself.

The garden gate opened and Bill walked in. "There you are," he said. Fleur stood and went to hug him. "I came home expecting to find my beautiful wife and instead there's just a note. 'Gone to the Burrow. Come get me when you get back.' Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for."

"I'm sorry," Fleur said. "But you didn't know how long you'd be and it was so grim sitting there all alone."

"She did the right thing," Arthur said. "No one should be sitting home alone right now. It's not safe."

"I'm sorry I had to leave," Bill said. "But it was a time sensitive situation."

"I understand," Fleur said.

"We were happy to have her," his mother said. "She's made two lovely dinners and brought wine."

"Very good wine," Hermione said from Ron's lap. She didn't open her eyes.

"Would it hurt your feelings if we didn't stay?" Bill asked. "I'm knackered."

"Go," his mother said. "Come for Sunday dinner though."

"Absolutely," Bill said. "See you then." He drew his wand and Disapparated.

"Thank you for having me," Fleur said. "It was lovely."

"Any time, dear," his mum said.

"Always good to see you," his dad added.

Fleur smiled and Disapparated.

"I should be going too," Angelina said. "I've got work tomorrow."

"I'll see you home," George said, standing.

When they had Disapparated, his dad let out a big yawn. "I've got work tomorrow too. I think I need to turn in."

His mum yawned too. "Alright dear, I'm right behind you." His dad went inside and his mum turned to the others. "Don't be out too late."

"We won't Mum," Ginny said.

"And don't forget to put out that fire." His mother stared at Ron for a moment, frowned, and then went inside.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

Ginny turned to Harry. "Fancy a walk down to the pond?"

"Sure," Harry said.

Ron watched them leave and then looked at Hermione. She had her eyes closed, but was still holding the wine. He took the glass from her and set it on the ground. She opened her eyes. "Everyone left," he said.

"Good," she said, shifting in his lap, she leaned up to kiss him. Her mouth tasted of wine and he felt like he could kiss her forever. She clearly had other plans. She shifted again until she was straddling his lap and he agonized because he knew he had to stop her and he didn't want to. He so didn't want to.

"Hermione," he said pulling his mouth away from hers. "Wait."

Her fingers were tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Wait," he said again, stilling her hands.

"I don't want to wait," she said, sitting back on his thighs. "I'm sick of waiting."

"We're in the garden. George will be back any time now. Harry and Ginny just went for a walk. What do you expect to do out here?"

She blinked at him. "You're right. Let's go to London."

"What? No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're drunk. You can't Apparate drunk. And you certainly can't do side-along drunk. That's crazy."

"I can do it," she said, shifting forward on his lap. "I'm not that drunk. I can do it and then we'd have time to ourselves. Just us. Come on, trust me."

Some part of Ron's brain, which he assumed was his libido, screamed 'yes! let's do it!' but the non-hormone-soaked part of his brain remembered the agony of Splinching."

"We can't," he said.

"We can," she said.

"Tomorrow, maybe, when you're sober, but not now."

She scowled at him and he knew that face. She was angry, very angry. She backed off his lap. "Fine. I'll go on my own then."

"No," Ron said, scrambling to his feet. "Don't do that." But she was gone. He frantically pulled his wand and shouted "Lumos!" he scanned the ground to make sure she hadn't Splinched and left behind a finger or anything, but there was nothing. He sighed in relief and then remembered that her parents' house hadn't been cleared by the Aurors. He needed Harry. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered and began running toward the pond. He slowed as he approached the bend that would bring him in sight of the gazebo and the pond. "Harry!" he shouted. He had no desire to walk up on anything Harry and his baby sister might be doing. He was fairly certain he heard a zipper being zipped, but he didn't want to think about why or whose it was.

"Ron?" Harry shouted back. "What is it?"

"You need to collect Hermione," Ron shouted back.

Harry came down the path toward him with Ginny a couple of paces behind him. "Why?"

"She Disapparated to London," Ron said.

"Drunk? That's insane!" Harry said, pulling his wand.

"That's what I said when she suggested we go there, but she took offense."

"Oh, for—are you sure she didn't Splinch?" Harry asked.

"I don't think so. I checked the ground pretty well."

Harry turned to Ginny. "Go with Ron. Check again. I'm going to go get her."

xXx

Harry landed in Hermione's parents' back garden but the shed wasn't visible. He'd set up wards with Hermione so many times though that he knew how to open them. "Hermione? I'm coming in." He cast the spell to open the wards and stepped inside and closed them behind him. He opened the door to the shed to find her sitting on the workbench smoking a cigarette and drinking something out of the same mug he'd seen her use before. "You smoke?" he said, shocked.

She snorted a long stream of smoke. "No."

He raised his eyebrows.

She frowned. "Which is to say, not often."

"Huh," Harry said. "You seem a lot soberer than you did a while ago."

"Apparating drunk is a surprisingly sobering experience," Hermione said, and took another drag on the cigarette. "Also, I threw up when I landed and this is tea."

Harry nodded and hopped up on the workbench next to her. "And the cigarette?"

"There was a pack here. My father used to smoke. Actually, I don't think he ever really stopped. I thought it might help clear my head."

"Has it?"

She looked at him and breathed out another stream of smoke. "Some."

Harry sighed. "I've been sent to collect you. Ron's in a state."

"I can imagine." She shook her head. "What was I thinking? I shouldn't have had so much wine. Dutch courage is not something I should indulge in."

Harry chuckled, but then looked at her. "So why did you?"

She shook her head again.

"Come on," Harry said. "You're not a big drinker. What happened tonight?"

"It's stupid."

"Of course, it is," Harry said. "All drunk stories are stupid. Tell me."

She sighed. "Earlier tonight, when we were making dinner, Ron said it would be nice to fly around with me some and Ginny suggested he take me on his broom and he said 'our Hermione is not one for flying' or something."

"Okay," Harry said. "So?"

"So, he said 'our Hermione' like I'm just part of the family."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Harry asked.

"Probably. I'm just being stupid." She wanted him to say 'my Hermione.' She didn't care if it was stupid. She wanted him to think of her as his in the way that she thought of him as hers.

"What am I missing?" Harry said.

"Nothing. It's just semantics. It doesn't mean anything. I just wish…but we never…it doesn't matter."

"I feel like more words would make this all clearer," Harry said, smiling.

"Fine," she frowned. "You and Ginny go off on your own all the time. We never do."

Harry smiled. "The alone time is Ginny's idea. The stuff she gets away with is completely mental. We're going to get caught and she doesn't seem to care. Of course, her brothers aren't going to kill her now, are they?"

"They're not likely to kill you either. You did just save the world."

"Yeah, but how long can I rely on that old chestnut?" He smiled.

Hermione chuckled. "Let's hope long enough for you to get your own place."

"Yes," Harry said. "Here's hoping."

Hermione sighed. "You're lucky you both want the same things."

"Hey," Harry said. "Ron—"

"Please don't say he loves me," Hermione said, her voice cracking. "I know that. It's just how he loves me that's confusing and you don't know the answer to that any more than I do."

Harry sighed and put his arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know you guys are having a rough time."

She stubbed out the cigarette. "We're all having a rough time, not just Ron and me. It'll sort itself out. It always does."

He smiled at her. "We should go back."

She pressed a hand over her face. "What am I supposed to say to him? I made a fool of myself and then did something incredibly reckless."

"You should probably just say that," Harry said.

She frowned at him, but then raised her eyebrows. "You think?"

"The truth is usually the best option unless it's likely to get you killed."

Hermione slipped off the workbench. "Alright."

Harry followed her out of the shed and watched her collapse the wards. "Are you sober enough to Disapparate or do you want me to take you?"

She sighed. "You best take me."

He held out his arm.

xXx

When they landed in the Burrow's back garden, Ron was furious. "What were you thinking?" he shouted.

"Shhh," Ginny said. "You'll wake Mum and Dad."

"I don't bloody care," Ron said, but he lowered his voice. "Have you gone completely mental?"

Hermione didn't answer and instead sat down on the ground.

Ron shifted gears immediately. "Are you alright?" She put one hand over her mouth and then held up the other. "Is she alright?" he asked Harry.

"Likely just nauseated. Drunk Apparating is not a good plan, even if someone else takes you."

"You took her side-along?" Ginny said, looking askance at Harry.

"Yeah, no worries, I've done it loads."

Ginny made a face, but he didn't see it as he squatted down next to Hermione. "You don't look so good."

She lay down. "I just need a minute for the garden to stop spinning. We should have waited to come back. You should have just left me there." She pressed her hands to the earth trying to make the sensation of spinning stop.

Ron knelt next to her. "No, he shouldn't have. We've talked about this. I can't believe you would do something so stupid."

"Me either," Hermione said. "Won't ever do it again. Terrible idea."

Harry stood and took Ginny's hand. "We should go in."

"But—" Ginny said.

"Come on," Harry said. "It's late."

Ginny frowned, but let him lead her inside.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said. "I made quite a fool of myself tonight."

"Nah," Ron said. "You were alright."

"No, I wasn't." She put a hand over her eyes. "I was ridiculous." She sat up slowly.

"Doing better?" Ron asked.

"A bit. I really am sorry."

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Don't be. You know I'd do anything to make you happy, just not necessarily in the garden, in front of everyone."

Hermione groaned. "I'm so sorry."

Ron snorted. "You're fine. You're a less embarrassing drunk than I am."

"I don't know about that. I think I was behaving pretty atrociously."

"Nah," Ron said. "Besides, it's not your fault I smell so good and my mouth is delicious. Clearly, I'm amazing, so—"

"Please stop," Hermione said.

He chuckled. "Yeah, okay."

She sat there for a moment feeling humiliated and sick. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Then she heard a faint plaintive cry. "Did you hear that?"

Ron shook his head.

"Listen," she said. The cry came again. "There."

"Yeah," Ron said, getting to his feet and drawing his wand. "What is that?"

"It sounds like…" Hermione stood and pulled her own wand. There was another cry, closer this time. "Crookshanks?"

They hurried over to the garden gate.

"If it's him, why doesn't he just jump over?" Ron said.

"I don't know. Lumos," she held her wand out like a torch. "It is him." She opened the gate and the orange cat limped toward her. "Ron, I think he's hurt." She tucked away her wand and picked up the big tom. "He's favoring his back leg."

"Bring him in the house, where we can get a proper look at him," Ron said.

xXx

Hermione put Crookshanks on the kitchen table and he lay down immediately on his right side. "Poor thing," Hermione said. "Where have you been? I thought you must be dead."

The cat made a mewling noise in response.

"It's so good to see you," Hermione said, examining his back, left leg. "Oh, Ron."

"What?"

"There's a nasty abscess here. I think something's bitten him."

Ron leaned in for a closer look. "That looks pretty bad."

"His leg is hot to the touch too," Hermione said.

"I'll go get Mum," Ron said.

"Does she know about healing animals?" Hermione asked.

Ron shook his head at her. "Come on, look around, this is a farm, Hermione."

She blushed. "Right, of course."

xXx

Ron took the stairs two at a time and knocked on his parents' door. "Mum." He knocked again. "Mum," he said a bit louder. He heard shuffling and then his mother appeared at the door.

"Ron? What's wrong?" His mother held out her hand and her wand flew into it from the nightstand.

"I need you to come downstairs and have a look at Crookshanks. He's got an infected leg."

"Crookshanks?" his mother said. "I thought he must be dead. We haven't seen him since the night of the wedding."

"He showed up just now in the garden."

They hurried downstairs and his mother looked at Crookshanks' leg. "Where have you been, you clever tom?" she said. She looked at Hermione. "The wound is infected but I can heal it. You might need to hold him down."

"No," Hermione said. "He's half Kneazle. Just tell him what you're going to do. He'll understand."

Ron was amused that his mother used the same spell Hermione used to shave her legs to shave away the hair around Crookshanks wound. Hermione was paying close attention until Molly cast Diffindo to drain the abscess and the sight and smell of pus sent her running into the garden to vomit.

His mother looked at Ron.

"She's not normally so squeamish," Ron said.

"She's not normally so drunk," his mother replied with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah, I don't know what that was about tonight."

His mother cast a cleaning charm on the wound. "And why does she smell as though she's been smoking?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno, was wondering that myself."

"Go get the Essence of Dittany out of the potion cabinet."

Ron went into the parlor and opened the cabinet. He got the bottle of Dittany, but then noticed the hangover potion and pocketed a bottle of that as well. "Here you go, Mum," he said, coming back into the kitchen.

Hermione came back in a moment later. Her hair was wild and her face was pale. "Is he alright?" she asked weakly.

"Probably better than you," Ron said with a wink.

Hermione rubbed Crookshanks' head.

"He's a bit dehydrated and probably needs a good meal, but I think he'll be fine," Molly said, as she applied two drops of Essence of Dittany to the center of the wound, which immediately began to close from the inside out.

Hermione got a bowl out of the cabinet and used her wand to fill it with water. Ron got some leftover pork roast out of the icebox and cut up some in small pieces for the cat. His mother was running her fingers through the ginger cat's fur and he was purring. "He's been sorely missed. He does an excellent job of keeping doxies and gnomes out of the house and garden."

"Yes," Hermione said. "He's always been a good hunter." She set the water bowl next to Crookshanks and he got up and took a long drink. He ate all the pork and by the time he was done, the wound on his leg was much improved. "I know you usually stay out at night," Hermione said to that cat. "But how about come to bed with me tonight?" Crookshanks rubbed his head against her hand and she picked him up. Ron was oddly jealous of the cat. He wanted to go to bed with Hermione. "Thank you so much," she said to his mum. "I thought…when he wasn't here when we got back…I assumed…" She pressed her face into his fur. "I'm so glad he's okay."

"Me too, dear, me too," his mum said.

"I'm going to go to bed," Hermione said.

"G'night," Ron said. He watched Hermione walk upstairs before he turned to his mother. "Thanks, Mum. She loves that scruffy old thing."

His mother smiled. "Well, she is fond of a ginger."

Ron could feel himself blush. "I reckon," he said. After his mother went up to bed, Ron cleaned up the kitchen and then decided to take a shower. He couldn't recall a more wank-inducing or frustrating night in recent weeks. He needed the relief.

xXx

After showering, he was pulling his trousers back on and remembered the bottle of hangover potion in his pocket. He finished getting dressed and then knocked softly on Ginny's door. She opened it without getting out of bed.

"What?"

Ron held up the little bottle. "I thought she might need this in the morning." Rather than take the bottle, Ginny pushed the door open further for him. Ron stepped inside. Hermione was sprawled across her bed still wearing his T-shirt from earlier, but she'd managed to take off her shoes and jeans. Her knickers were Gryffindor red and clashed horrifically with his old orange Cannons shirt. He smiled. Crookshanks was curled up next to her. The cat lifted his yellow eyes to Ron as he approached. Ron set the bottle on her nightstand. When he turned around Ginny was frowning at him.

"What?" he whispered.

"Tomorrow, get her to give you her parents' address. I'm tired of Harry having to go get her every time you two have a row."

He frowned, but he understood her frustration. "Yeah. I'll see what I can do."


	14. Obfuscation

The next morning, Hermione had a nightmare that she was walking through her parents' house calling their names. She could hear them but no matter what room she walked into, they weren't there. She woke crying with a throbbing headache. She opened her eyes to see a small purple bottle on the nightstand. It was labeled 'Hangover Potion' in Fleur's flowing script. She wiped her face and opened the bottle, gratefully drinking its contents. Crookshanks nudged his head against her side and she ruffled his fur. At least one thing had gone well last night. It was only half five and Ginny was still asleep. As quietly as she could, she slipped on her dressing gown and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and tame her hair. Downstairs, she drank a glass of water and let Crookshanks out, only to see Ron standing in the garden. "Are you alright?" she asked, walking up to him.

He turned around. "What are you doing up?"

"Same as you, I suppose," she said.

"Nightmare?" he asked.

She nodded.

"You alright?"

She nodded again. "You?"

"Yeah," Ron said.

"I'm really sorry about last night," she said. "Was it you who left the hangover potion for me?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Figured you'd need it."

"I did. Thanks."

"Gin wants me to have the address to your parents' place. She's a bit miffed at Harry always having to go get you. Besides, I meant what I said last night, if you still want some time alone."

She looked at him and bit her bottom lip. She did want time alone with him, lots of time, but he always couched things in terms of other people. She wanted to know what he wanted. "It doesn't matter. Harry's right, I shouldn't go back there until it's been cleared by the Aurors. I've been really lucky so far."

He scratched his belly through his T-shirt. "Dunno, I could use a good snog myself." He winked at her and grinned.

"Don't make fun of me," she said.

"Hey," he said, stepping closer to her. "I'm not. We can do whatever you want. Seriously. I just want you to be happy."

Part of her, a selfish part, wanted to say okay, let's go. But a bigger, less sure part, didn't think that was such a good idea. If he went into a relationship just to please her, it wouldn't last, and if it didn't last, they might not be friends anymore after that, and she couldn't bear the thought of him being out of her life entirely. "Happy is a lot to ask," she said. "I'm just trying to get through the day."

"I know," he said, putting his arms around her. "But I want more for you than that."

"I want more than that for all of us," she said into his chest. "But I think we have to take what we can get." He really did smell good and the idea of taking what she could get seemed more and more appealing by the moment.

"That's true," Ron said. His eyes were so inviting when she looked up at him that her doubts slipped away. She tugged him down by his shirt and he pressed his lips to hers. She opened her mouth to him, slid her hands around his neck and her fingers through his hair to pull him closer. As her hands went higher, his went lower, until he had her bum in his hands pulling her tight against him. She thought she might drown in the sheer joy of it. She wanted to climb up his body and wrap her legs around him. She couldn't get close enough to him. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to merge with him.

"Oi!" George said. "You two know you're standing in the middle of the garden, right?" They popped apart and Hermione turned around to face George, her back to Ron, her face hot. George shook his head. "Oh, Ronnie, what would our sainted brother say."

Hermione could feel Ron taking deep breaths behind her even as she tried to control her own breathing.

"Dunno," Ron said. "Probably, 'way to go Ron' or something like that."

George grinned, nodding. "Likely, yes. And you little Miss Granger. Fred always said you were a firecracker underneath all those books. Looks like he was right." His face fell. "He was always right." George's voice cracked and a tear slipped down his cheek. "Always bloody right."

"George?" Hermione said.

"Hey," Ron said.

"Sorry," George said, wiping his face on his sleeve. "Sorry. Carry on." But he seemed to crumple. Ron caught his arm and Hermione got on his other side and the three of them, stood there for a moment. "Sorry," George said again. "I don't know what's…bloody hell." And then he was crying in earnest, holding on to both of them. Hermione looked at Ron. There were tears in his eyes too.

"It's alright," Ron said. "Absolutely fine."

Hermione nodded and stroked George's hair. "You're alright."

It took a minute for George to pull himself together. When he stepped back from them he straightened his shirt and smoothed back his hair. "Well, that was embarrassing."

"What was?" Ron said. He looked at Hermione. "Do you recall anything embarrassing?"

She shook her head. "No. Nothing."

George looked from one to the other. "You two lie really well."

"You've no idea," Ron said. "Let's go in. I could use a cuppa."

"Me too," Hermione said.

George followed them into the kitchen.

His mother was sitting at the table with a big pot of tea already made. "Goodness, you three are up early." She looked at George in the same clothes he was wearing last night. "Are you just now getting in? Honestly, Fred, you've got to stop—" Everyone froze. For weeks, everyone had been careful not to say Fred when they meant George, which mostly meant no one said either name out of fear of saying the wrong one, and now his mother had made the ultimate gaff.

"It's George, Mum," he said. "I know Fred was usually the one sneaking in at the crack of dawn, but—"

"I'm so sorry, George," his mother gasped, tears filling her eyes, she stood, but he waved her off.

"Don't be," he said. "I'm fine. It's an easy mistake to make, especially for you, given all those years you had to yell both names. Don't worry about it. I've had a long night. I'm going to bed."

His mother nodded, her face etched with agonized worry. George plodded upstairs.

Hermione got two mugs out of the cabinet and poured tea for her and Ron.

Ron sat across from his mother. "It's alright, Mum."

She shook her head. "I can't believe I did that. I've been so careful."

"We all have, Mum," Ron assured her. "But it was bound to happen eventually."

Hermione saw the post owls coming and opened the window for them. There were several letters including one for George from the Ministry of Magic. She set the post on the table and took a seat next to Ron.

Molly looked at them. "Why are you two up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep," Ron said.

"Me either," Hermione agreed. She cleared her throat. "I'm really sorry about last night. Thank you so much for taking care of Crookshanks."

Molly sighed. "I was happy to help him. He's a good cat. I know you must be thrilled to have him back"

Hermione nodded. "I really am. I can't even tell you how great it is."

Molly looked at them sympathetically. "I know this must be a very difficult time for you two." Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. "I want you to know, if Ginny wasn't still underage, the rules around here would likely be different, but your father is concerned and adamant that we not change our stance right now. It's very important that she continues her education."

"Sure, Mum," Ron said.

"Of course," Hermione agreed. They glanced at each other again.

"I think I'm going to go ahead and get dressed. I need to go to the market and run some errands in town." She stood, sifted through the post quickly, pulled out a couple of letters, and went upstairs.

Ron and Hermione continued drinking their tea until they heard her bedroom door close.

Hermione broke the silence. "Was she talking about—?"

"Yeah, I think she was," Ron said. "Bloody hell."

Hermione put her face in her hands. "I must have been worse last night than I thought, if she felt the need to address it."

Ron put his hand on her back. "You weren't that bad."

"Clearly, I was," Hermione groaned.

"Nah," Ron said. "The hilarious thing is that she thinks we have any influence over Ginny."

Hermione looked at him and smiled. "That is pretty funny."

"Right? As if," Ron said, smirking. "Harry barely has any influence over Ginny."

Hermione chuckled. "That's true. Of course, I think that's part of her appeal to him. She's not blinded by his status."

"Not anymore," Ron said. "She used to be quite dotty about him, remember?"

"Yes, but she was just a kid then."

"I guess that's Mum's point though," Ron said. "Technically, she's still a kid."

"Right," Hermione said. "Only not really. It seems kind of silly to make her adhere to an arbitrary line."

Ron nodded. "I know, but I do see their point about school."

"Yes, about that," Hermione said. "I talked to McGonagall."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"She said I can challenge the exams."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Seriously? How does that work?"

"I just contact the professors whose exams I want to challenge and set it up with them. Apparently, Mum and Dad paid for last year, but when I didn't show up, the money stayed in my account at the school, so I'm covered for books and fees."

"Oh," he said. "So, how many are you going to challenge?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. All of them, maybe."

"That's mental, you know that."

"Possibly. I'm going to do some reading over the next few weeks to try and assess where I am in terms of subjects and then I'll decide. I've already started on Ancient Runes and I definitely think I'm up to that."

"So, by challenge," Ron said. "Does that mean you're going back to school?"

"Not exactly," she said. "I won't be living there. Hopefully, that means I can get room and board refunded to me. I could use the money."

"Oh," Ron said. "Where do you think you'll live then?"

"Home, I suppose. It's not like I have the money to rent a place in Hogsmeade, although in many ways, that would be ideal."

"London to Hogwarts every day is going to be exhausting Hermione, no matter how you do it."

She shook her head. "It won't be every day. I'm not attending classes. I'm doing independent study. I'd probably only go in on occasion, once a week or so, to get books from the library or meet with professors."

"Huh," Ron said, thinking about all the possibilities of Hermione having her own place.

"I just have to wait for the Aurors to clear the house, but since it's a Muggle place, I suspect it's pretty low on the priority list."

"You could ask Harry to have a word with Shacklebolt," Ron suggested.

"No. It's not important enough for that. It'll get done soon enough. Honestly, I'm not even ready to go inside yet, so why rush?"

He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard."

She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. "It's alright. I'm getting there."

Someone was coming downstairs, so he withdrew his hand.

"I'm going to take a shower," Hermione said, as Harry came into the kitchen.

"Alright," Ron said. "Harry and I can make breakfast."

"Oh?" Harry said. "Okay."

xXx

At breakfast, George opened his letter to find that the Aurors had cleared the shop for him to return. "Alright then," he said. "I guess I know what I'm doing today."

"I can go with you," Ron offered.

"Perhaps we all should," Harry said.

"No," George said. "I think I want to go on my own today, check things out, see what needs to be done, and then maybe we can come up with a plan."

"Sure," Ron said. "Sounds good."

"Makes sense," Harry agreed, but they exchanged concerned glances.

"It'll be fine," George said.

xXx

It was raining. Crookshanks had come back inside, and Hermione was looking for the Standard Book of Spells: Year 7, that was supposed to be somewhere in the parlor. It had belonged to Percy, but Fred had put an obfuscation spell, and an invisibility spell, on it five years ago and no one had seen it since. The obfuscation spell prevented Accio or a location spell from working. Hermione was pacing back and forth in the parlor tapping her wand against her thigh as she tried to figure out how to find the book. Ron was attempting to play chess with Harry but he was distracted by Hermione's pacing. It was turning him on. He thought it was the wand tapping that really put him over the edge, but then almost everything she did these days turned him on. Even watching her drink her morning tea had turned into somewhat of an erotic experience.

"I don't understand," Hermione said. "Percy is clever, why didn't he find the book?"

Ginny looked up from a Quidditch magazine she was perusing. "Because Fred wanted him to spend Christmas hols running around looking for his book and Percy wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, he sent a letter to Penelope, who said he could borrow her older brother's book, and that was that. The whole thing was forgotten."

"Why didn't Percy just borrow Charlie's book?"

"Come on, Hermione," Ron said. "Percy's book was Charlie's book. Probably Bill's too."

Hermione blushed. "Oh, right." She looked around. "It's definitely in the parlor though?"

"That's what Fred said and he didn't generally lie about a prank," Ginny said.

Hermione looked around. "Well, it isn't on the bookshelves because it would show up as a gap." She resumed pacing. "Since the goal was to irritate Percy, while amusing himself, what would amuse Fred the most?"

"Irritating Percy was what amused him most, beyond taking the mickey out of me," Ron said.

Hermione looked around the room. "Yes, but finding it would need to be funny in itself, don't you think? Like the key to this is probably something that makes the finder look stupid or clownish, because Percy doesn't like to be perceived as silly. Right?"

"You have a point," Ginny said.

"Why are you looking for this again?" Harry asked. "I thought you had that book when we were camping."

"I did," Hermione said. "But it was on the table, not in my bag, when the Snatchers came."

"Oh," Harry said. "Right." He looked guilty. Ron clenched his jaw, still angry that Harry had slipped and said Voldemort's name when he knew there was a trace. Hermione looked haunted for a moment and it broke his heart and made him even angrier. He pushed it down. It was over. That bastard was dead and Harry had died to make it happen. He could be forgiven a slip of the tongue.

The room fell silent. Ginny glanced at the other three and Arthur lowered his paper to see why everyone had stopped talking. Finding nothing to worry about, he stood and went into the kitchen for another cup of tea.

"That's it," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "I need the room."

"What?" Ginny said, but Ron and Harry were already getting up.

"Better take your game, it's likely to get knocked over," Hermione added.

Ron picked up the board. Clearly confused, Ginny followed him and Harry into the kitchen. Ron set the chessboard on the kitchen table and turned around to watch. Harry was already leaning against the doorjamb waiting to see what Hermione would do. Ginny stood between them. Her father came over and stood behind her. Hermione raised her wand. Every book in the room rose and began flying around. A shimmering shield appeared around Hermione. The books began to organize themselves, but as they moved into order each one hit her shield. A few minutes later she was completely encircled by a high wall of neatly stacked books. She lowered the shield and scanned the stack until she found a clear gap. She plucked out the invisible book and cast a charm to reveal it, Standard Book of Spells: Year 7. She smiled, flicked her wand, and all the other books flew onto the bookshelves in alphabetical order by author. The others clapped.

"Good show," Arthur said and resumed his place in the parlor and picked up his paper.

"Clever," Harry said. "How'd you work it out?"

"Well," Hermione said. "The simple answer to finding the book was to cast an ordering charm on all the books in the room, so they'd organize themselves and then I could see the invisible one surrounded by the others, but Fred cast the obfuscation charm, so I figured he'd want the books to attack whoever tried to order them, because he'd think it was funny if they attacked Percy, so I cast a preemptive shield. I guess he figured Percy would cast a shield pretty quickly too, so he had the books create a wall around the caster if an ordering charm was cast, which is why he had to confine the search to the parlor. If he'd said it could be anywhere in the house, your mother would have killed him for having all the books in the house piled up in here."

Ron leaned over and kissed the top of her head and touched the small of her back at the same time. "Genius."

A shiver ran through her and he smiled. "Thanks," she said quietly.

Harry set the chessboard down and they resumed their game. Hermione settled onto the floor in the corner of the room next to the bookcase and opened the spell book.

xXx

Ginny returned to the sofa and her Quidditch magazine, but she wasn't really reading it. Instead, she thought about Hermione saying she needed the room and Ron and Harry immediately getting up without question. She remembered Harry's firm "don't do that again" to Hermione when she returned from spending the night alone in London. Hermione had simply nodded as though Harry had the authority to say that to her. Then she thought about him saying he'd taken Hermione side-along loads of times. She frowned. Their relationship confused her. The three of them had always been tight, but with each passing year, the bond seemed tighter, the shorthand of their conversations even shorter, now the three of them seemed capable of communicating with just a glance, a raised eyebrow, a brief shrug, but Harry and Hermione seemed to have their own subset of shorthand as did Ron and Hermione. She supposed Ron and Harry did too, but it was the bond with Hermione that bothered her. She understood that Hermione could take Harry side-along because she'd been him with Polyjuice Potion. Ginny still remembered how anxious she'd been that night waiting for them all to return from Surrey. She also understood that Hermione was very gifted when it came to Apparition, which was good, since she was so miserable on a broom, so Ginny accepted that Hermione could take both of them side-along. What she was less comfortable with was Harry's ability to side-along with Hermione. To her knowledge, he didn't ever take Ron side-along or ever Apparate all three of them. Why then, was he able to Apparate with Hermione? Of course, Harry was very powerful. He was the Chosen One, able to do magic well beyond his years from the beginning, but this intimate act bothered her, and she wasn't sure why. Nothing about Harry and Hermione made her think they were ever lovers. Although, there had been those rumors about her and him during the Triwizard Tournament. Perhaps, Ron had been wrong. Perhaps they'd had a fling back then and just kept it from him, but even if they had, they were so young, surely, they hadn't had sex. Ginny looked at Hermione where she sat on the floor. Hermione had told her about snogging Krum during their weekly make-out sessions when he was supposed to be helping her improve her flying skills. No way had she dated Harry then. She was barely able to manage a relationship with Krum. She couldn't have had both of them on the hook. She simply wasn't that girl, at least not back then, which left only the last year in the woods. What had gone on during those months with just the three of them crammed into that tent, hiding from the rest of the world? The possibilities seemed so unlikely, and yet, Harry could Apparate with Hermione, which irked her. She sighed. They were the Golden Trio, and while she was often a wanted fourth, it would never be the Golden Quartet.

In the end, she trusted all three of them, loved all three of them, and was in love with Harry, and she knew he loved her back. If something had happened between Harry and Hermione, it had to have been due to some bizarre circumstances. Hermione very obviously loved Ron. She'd never seemed interested in Harry that way, and Hermione certainly wasn't his type. Ron, on the other hand, had spent years trying to appear cool about Hermione and mostly failing to everyone but Hermione, who for some reason, didn't recognize how batty he was about her. She looked from one to the other and wondered when they'd gone off track. At the wedding, they'd seemed closer than ever and she was certain they'd finally worked out what they both wanted, but somehow, despite months together on the run and spending the night together after the Battle of Hogwarts, they were offset now. It didn't make sense. She felt like there was a significant piece of information that she was missing. The problem was the three of them had been very tightlipped about their time on the run. She knew some of that was because of the gag order, but she suspected a lot of it was something else, something more personal. She just wasn't sure what that was.


	15. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes

George returned that night for dinner.

"How was the shop?" his father asked.

"Awful," George said. "Like Percy's flat everything is broken, stolen, or graffitied. They did everything short of burning the place down."

"What happened to the Pygmy Puffs?" Ginny asked. Her own beloved Arnold was asleep on her bed upstairs.

"We took them out here and released them where we caught the first few we used to breed them. Hopefully, they integrated back into the colony."

"I hope so," Ginny said.

"We can come help you clean up tomorrow," Ron said.

"I'm sure Fleur would come too," Hermione said.

"And Bill and Percy will come after work," Ginny said.

George nodded. "That'd be great. So much needs to be done, but I can't do anything until the place is cleaned up and repaired."

"Then we'll start tomorrow," Ron said.

"I'll send Fleur a note after dinner," Hermione said, "if Pig can take it."

"Sure," Ron said, smiling at her.

"I spent most of the day, cleaning out the Floo connection," George said. "But, that's how I got home, so it's working now."

xXx

The next morning, everyone was up early for breakfast, and when they were done, they all took the Floo to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley.

Ron was shocked at the state of the shop. George hadn't exaggerated. Even though the previous day, George had cleared out anything that was beyond repair before working on the Floo, everything left in the shop was broken, ruined, or covered in Death Eater propaganda. They all pulled their wands and went to work. A few minutes later, Fleur arrived to pitch in. She and Hermione worked on removing the graffiti. Ron and Harry set about repairing the displays, while George and Ginny began cleaning up spilled products that were all over the floor.

At lunchtime, George and Ron went down the street and brought back bags of Cornish pasties and butter beer. While they were all sitting around eating, Ginny asked, "How does the flat upstairs look?"

George shook his head. "I haven't even been up there yet. I wanted to get this place sorted before I dealt with that."

"Sure," Ron said. "Makes sense. Always smart to mind the money first."

"Right," George said solemnly.

Ron felt like George probably didn't want to go into the flat for much the same reason that Hermione didn't want to go inside her parents' house. The finality of the empty space was more than he could bear right now.

After lunch, they continued working. At six o'clock, Percy showed up to help, followed a few minutes later by Bill. By eight o'clock, the shop looked much better.

"So tomorrow," George said, "I'll get some paint and we can spruce up the place now that everything is clean and fixed."

"Sounds good," Ginny said.

"Shouldn't take long," Fleur said.

"Right, and then I just need to start making products to sell," George said. "Once I've got some money coming in, I can order the stuff I don't make myself."

"We can help with that," Hermione said.

"That's okay," George said. "Angelina was helping with the books before. She said she'd help me with the purchase orders when I'm ready."

xXx

The next day, they all returned to the shop to paint and decorate. Magic made quick work of it, so they were done by lunchtime. As they were taking turns getting into the fireplace to return to the Burrow, George said to Ron, "Can I have a word?"

Ron turned around, "Sure."

When everyone else had left, George said, "I wanted to talk to you about working with me on some of the products."

"Okay," Ron said.

"You seem pretty good with charms," George said. "A lot of the products require two people to cast them. I was wondering if you'd be willing to learn how do that."

"Yeah, sure," Ron said. "Should I ask—"

"Just you," George said. "These are proprietary spells. They're not for everyone. You learn to do them, but you don't teach them to anyone else. Understand. No one."

"Oh, right, yeah, of course," Ron said, nodding.

"I reckon that the biggest challenge will be getting in sync. Fred and I sort of did that naturally," George said. "But I've watched you casting charms around the farm and I figure you're up to the task."

Ron nodded. "Thanks. I'll do my best."

George clapped him on the shoulder. "I know you will."

xXx

Hermione was unprepared for Ron's lengthy absence every day. He and George left every morning right after breakfast and often didn't return until long after dinner. Ron was generally so exhausted from performing complex charms every day that the only time he and Hermione had together was at breakfast and when she joined him and George for the late dinner his mother had left for them.

She spent her days revising. She'd started with Ancient Runes, but quickly realized she needn't bother too much. She was fluent, so she spent a little time each day on grammar, but didn't worry about vocabulary. She'd moved on to the _Standard Book of Spells: Year 7_ and was working her way through it, but she wasn't worried about her Charms exam either. She didn't bother with Defense Against the Dark Arts. She knew she was far ahead of the seventh-year curriculum for that. There wasn't an advanced Arithmancy book in the house and she hadn't brought any with her when they were fugitives. It didn't seem a practical necessity for being on the lam. Since the Gringott's situation still wasn't resolved and she hadn't gotten a letter from McGonagall yet, she didn't want to buy one, so instead she focused on what was at the house. She managed to find a seventh year Transfiguration text, so she started working through the magical theory in that. She knew she had the practical magic down. It was the essays on theory she had to worry about.

Of course, there was only so much revising even she could do. Days began early with breakfast, which was another brief few minutes of contact with Ron. Then she, Harry, and Ginny split the farm chores. Ginny still wasn't supposed to use magic outside of school, but Harry and Hermione had no such restrictions. While Ginny milked the cow, fed the chickens, and collected eggs, Harry and Hermione did the rest of the chores. Thanks to the return of Crookshanks there was no need to de-gnome the garden anymore, so chores rarely took more than an hour. The rest of the day was open. She didn't want to intrude on Harry and Ginny's time together, so she generally went for a long walk after chores while they took their brooms and went out. They all had lunch together and then sometimes Harry and Ginny would go for a swim or a walk while she revised. If it was raining, they would sometimes all play games or she would revise and Harry and Ginny would read together, the same book, at the same time. Hermione couldn't imagine doing that with anyone and she thought it was a little weird that they did it, but of course, she didn't say anything. Once a week, the three of them helped Luna get the Quibbler out. Mr. Lovegood was doing a lot better, but Luna still carried a lot of the workload for getting the paper printed and distributed and she was grateful for their help. Hermione was grateful for the change of pace.

For the most part, Hermione felt lonely and at loose ends. She missed Ron. She missed talking to people who didn't live at the Burrow. She missed the city. Country life, as bucolic as it might be, just wasn't for her. Increasingly, she thought of going to Australia to check on her parents and what it would take to make that happen.

xXx

Ginny and Hermione were at the Rook helping Luna get the _Quibbler_ laid out. Ginny had just handed Hermione an article about a recent Snorkack sighting for the front page. She knew the feature would drive Hermione around the bend when she saw it. Hermione shook her head at the ridiculous article. The person who had seen the Crumple-horned creature admitted to being very drunk at the time and yet, Mr. Lovegood insisted that it was a front-page story. Hermione sighed and used her wand to cram the story into the lower left corner of the front page.

"Oh, no!" Mr. Lovegood said, looking over her shoulder. "Such important news has to be above the fold, my dear."

Ginny bit back a smile as Hermione's eye twitched.

"Okay," Hermione said. "I think I need some air. I'm going to step out for a tic."

"Good idea," Mr. Lovegood said. "Fresh air clears the mind and chases off Eye Digglers, they cause twitches around the eyes, you know."

Ginny saw Hermione's jaw clench as she nodded with a tight-lipped smile at Mr. Lovegood before stepping out of the front door.

Mr. Lovegood looked at his watch. "Ah, Luna, I must go. I have an appointment in Diagon Alley. Are you alright to finish up here?"

"Of course, Daddy," Luna said. Her father leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "I'll be back in a few hours. I'm going to do some shopping after my meeting."

"Alright," Luna said in that airy way of hers that always made Ginny wonder if Luna was really listening.

When Mr. Lovegood was gone and it was just the two of them in the house, Luna turned to Ginny and said. "Daddy irritates Hermione."

Ginny shrugged, thinking it best not to get into it. Mr. Lovegood did irritate Hermione, but he irritated a lot of people, so it wasn't really fair to dump all that on Hermione.

"Daddy is very excited about the impossible," Luna continued. "Hermione seems very rooted in the probable."

Ginny nodded. "I think that's a fair assessment."

"I noticed she's wearing a scarf now instead of a plaster. I guess her neck finally healed."

"Yeah," Ginny said.

"It took a long time," Luna said.

"I guess you saw it right after it happened." Ginny said.

"Yes," Luna said. "She looked very bad when Ron brought her into the cottage."

"What happened?" Ginny asked. She'd asked Harry to tell her, but he hadn't said much. Neither had Ron or Hermione. Ginny knew someone had cut Hermione's throat and she knew Hermione had nightmares, but that was about the extent of it. She hadn't thought to ask Luna until just now.

"I wasn't there for all of it because I was being held in the cellar. There was a lot of shouting from upstairs and then Ron and Harry and Griphook got thrown in with Mr. Ollivander and me."

"In a cellar where? What about Hermione? Where was she?" Ginny asked.

"Malfoy Manor. They kept her upstairs. Bellatrix wanted to know where they got the sword of Gryffindor. She cast Crucio and Hermione started screaming and Ron sort of lost it. Harry too, but not as bad as Ron. It was awful to hear her like that and not be able to do anything."

Ginny nodded and said. "She still has nightmares."

"She had those at Shell Cottage too. They seemed quite awful. I'm not sure what all happened to her, but when Ron levitated her into the house she was unconscious and bloody and covered in broken glass."

"Broken glass?" Ginny said. "From what?"

"I'm not sure. Ron and Harry were really upset so I didn't ask for details and Hermione never wanted to talk about it when she would wake from a nightmare."

"No," Ginny said. "She still doesn't.

They could hear Hermione come back in, so they stopped talking and continued laying out the paper.

"Alright," Hermione said, resuming her seat at the table. "I guess I'll put this above the fold then."

Luna and Ginny looked at her sympathetically.

Hermione looked back at them, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "It's not that bad," she said.

Ginny smiled. "I guess not."

"No," Luna said airily.

xXx

Ron was knackered. He'd never realized how complicated the magic was behind Fred and George's products. The first two weeks were spent learning how to synchronously cast with George. After he'd finally mastered that, the following week was spent learning spells and creating products. Making everything took a tremendous amount of time and magic. At least George was tracking his time. He promised to pay him when the shop reopened. George had to spend money on ingredients for the joke snacks and other consumables, but he'd given Ron ten galleons as a kind of stipend to make up for the long hours. Ron kept a couple of Galleons for walking around money and put the rest of it in the box with Hermione's letters under the loose floor board in his room, exactly where he'd kept what little money he'd had as a child.

He missed Hermione. Despite the fact that they were living under the same roof, he rarely saw her. They talked briefly at breakfast or when he came in exhausted late at night. After three weeks of non-stop work, despite being nearly dead on his feet, he asked her if she wanted to take a walk after he'd finished his reheated dinner.

"Sure," she said with a broad smile that made his heart soar. They went out into the garden and walked down to the pond. Ron stepped up on to the gazebo and leaned down with his forearms on the railing and watched the moonlight play on the water. He was bone-tired. Hermione stood next to him with her hands on the rail.

"Nice night," Ron said.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "We've had so much rain, it's nice to get a break in the weather."

"Yeah," Ron said, although he'd barely noticed the weather lately. He yawned deeply.

"You're tired," she said quietly. "You should get some sleep. You're working crazy hours."

"I know," Ron said. "I'm sorry I haven't been around."

"Don't be," Hermione said. "George needs your help. He trusts you and clearly you were the right choice, which isn't surprising, your charm work is excellent."

He smiled at her. He hadn't realized she'd noticed. "Thanks for understanding."

She sighed. "To be honest, I'm kind of jealous."

"Jealous?" he chuckled. "That I'm working in a joke shop? You?"

"Jealous that you're working anywhere. Jealous that you get to go to London every day. Really jealous that you're learning new magic," she said without looking at him.

"Hey, things will get going for you soon enough," he said. "You just have to be patient."

"I know. Patience isn't really my strong suit though. I feel like I'm just running in place. I'm guessing at what I should be revising. I need some guidance in that regard, but I can't contact the professors until I get the letter."

"I'm sure the letters will come out soon. Have you talked to McGonagall about whether she'll refund your room and board?"

"No. I was waiting on the letter to come first, but maybe I shouldn't. All I have is Muggle money right now. I want to pick up a few things but I'd have to have an intermediary go to the bank to do a currency exchange for me. I just hate to ask anyone."

"If you need money," Ron said. "I do have some."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't take your money."

"Are you serious?" Ron said. "You paid to feed me for months. You can absolutely take my money."

Hermione shook her head. "That was different. Those were necessities. I don't really need anything."

Ron stood and turned to her. "Then what do you want? I owe you. I owe you big time. Harry and I both do."

"You don't owe me anything."

He yawned again.

"Come on," Hermione said. "Let's go back. You need sleep."

He was too tired to argue.

xXx

The next morning, after Ron took a shower and got dressed for work, he noticed his pants were too short. Sighing he went downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen making breakfast. Hermione was writing a letter at the table.

"Mum," Ron said. "Could you let the hem out on my trousers. They're all too short."

His mother turned around. "Let me see."

Ron put his foot up on the bench at the table and his mother leaned over to inspect the hem of his trousers.

"I can lower them one more time, but then you're going to need new ones. Stop growing."

Ron smiled. "It's your fault for marrying into a tall family Mum."

She shook her head at him good-naturedly. "Charlie, Fred and George had the decency to be human scale."

"Reckon I got Dad's troll blood then, Mum," Ron said.

She turned around and flipped the bacon. "Take those off," she said. "I can fix the hem now. I'll do the others later."

Ron stripped off his trousers.

"Ron!" Hermione said.

"Good heavens, Ron," his mother said. "I didn't mean right here."

"Well it's not as though I'm naked," Ron grumbled. "I've got my boxers on."

"Hermione, could you take over breakfast?" his mother said. "Apparently, I have to take care of this right now."

"Sure," Hermione said.

Ron sat down at the table while his mother cast the spell to take the hem out of both legs of his trousers. He noticed the quill Hermione had been writing with was quite tatty. He wondered if new quills were something she wanted. In school, she was always picky about her quills. She only used magpie feathers. They weren't ostentatious like a peacock feather or anything, but they were different, compact, black and white, and expensive. When they started to get worn she replaced them. She also liked walnut ink instead of regular iron gall ink like the other students used. He'd never understood all the fuss. Any quill that would write worked for him and any ink would do as well. His mum and dad had always bought the cheapest goose feather quills in bulk along with generic iron gall ink, and that had always been fine by him. Still, he knew Hermione cared about those things, and for most of the last year she'd been making do without complaint. He'd have to try and get to Scrivenshaft's one day soon.

"Alright," his mother said, interrupting his musings. "Try them now."

Ron pulled his trousers back on. "Much better," he said. "Thanks Mum."

"The bacon's done," Hermione said.

"Good, I'll get the eggs started then," his mother said and returned to the cooker.

Hermione resumed her seat and picked up the tatty quill.

"Who are you writing then?" Ron asked as he put on his shoes.

"Viktor," Hermione said, without looking up.

"Viktor? What are you writing him for?" All plans for buying her a new quill and a bottle of ink went up like smoke.

"The last time he saw me was at the wedding. Apparently, he tried writing right after, but of course, there was no response. Then he saw the news. I was mentioned in an article he read recently, so he tried again. I'm responding."

"What does he want?" Ron said, trying to tone down the jealousy he felt welling up inside him.

She looked up at him. "He was just asking after me. He'd feared the worst."

"Well, you can't tell him anything," Ron said, in what he realized after he'd said it, was a very accusatory tone.

"I know that," Hermione said, her eyes flashing with irritation. "What do you take me for?"

"I don't understand why you're writing him at all," Ron said, not even trying to disguise the anger in his voice.

"Common decency. A friend asked after me. I'm replying," Hermione said hotly.

"Friend? He doesn't want to be your friend," Ron scoffed. "At the wedding, he asked Harry if you were seeing anyone. That's not a friendly thing to ask."

Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she stood, grabbed her things from the table, and stormed back upstairs.

"What kind of eighteen-year-old runs around with a fifteen-year-old girl anyway?" Ron shouted after her. "Have you asked yourself that? Bloody perv!"

"Ronald," his mother gasped.

"I'm going to work," Ron shouted and threw some Floo powder in the fireplace and was gone.

xXx

"What's all the shouting about?" Arthur said as he came into the kitchen followed by Harry a moment later.

Molly was putting a platter of bacon and eggs on the table. "Ron and Hermione had a blazing row over Viktor Krum," she said quietly.

"What?" Harry said. "That's long over."

"What is?" Ginny said, coming into the kitchen.

"Viktor and Hermione," Harry answered.

"Well, they were shouting about him," Molly said.

"That explains why she's upstairs pacing and muttering expletives," Ginny said.

"I don't understand," Harry said.

Molly sighed. "A letter arrived in the post this morning from Viktor asking after her and she was replying. Ron did not approve."

"Well, that's ridiculous," Ginny said, "What was she supposed to do? Ignore it? And it's not like she was hiding it, if she was answering it right here at the kitchen table."

"Maybe she should have hidden it. Nothing sets off Ron like Viktor," Harry said.

Ginny snorted. "He needs to get over it. They were together almost four years ago. What's wrong with him?"

"What's wrong with who?" George said as he walked into the kitchen.

Ginny recapped the situation for him.

"What a load of bollocks," George said. "I don't need this today. We're supposed to be making Ton Tongue Toffee. It's very tricky. I need him concentrating."

"I'm sure he'll calm down," Arthur said as he finished his eggs. "I'm off to work." He leaned over and kissed his wife before stepping into the fireplace.

Harry shook his head. "Obviously, your dad has never seen how long Ron can be angry about this."

"How long?" George said with some alarm.

"Well, when she was actually dating Viktor, Ron was furious for months. Since then, he can hold on to it for a few days, sometimes a week or more if it's a really big row." He looked at Mrs. Weasley. "How did it end?"

"What, dear?" she asked.

"The row, how did it end?"

"Well," she thought about it. "Ron said something about Viktor not wanting to be just friends and then Hermione took her things and went upstairs and he shouted after her something about eighteen-year-olds who date fifteen-year-olds being pervs."

"Oh," Harry said. "That's bad." He looked at George. "This could go on for a while. You should plan on at least a week."

George got up from the table. "That's just bloody fantastic." he said sarcastically. He threw Floo powder into the fireplace and swirled away in a torrent of green flame.

xXx

That night, for the first time since he'd started working with George, Hermione was not waiting for Ron when he got back to the Burrow. He and George reheated their own dinners and sat silently at the kitchen table eating before going up to bed. The light was off in Ginny's room when Ron walked past on his way upstairs.

The next morning, Hermione didn't come down for breakfast before he had to leave to go to the shop. He told himself he didn't care, that if she was going to be so disloyal as to write to the likes of Viktor Krum, he couldn't be bothered to have breakfast with her anyway. Unfortunately, he was having a hard time concentrating at the shop.

xXx

On the third day, George had had enough. "Bloody hell, Ron! Go fix it."

"What?" Ron said, rolling his wand between his fingers.

"Go fix the situation with Hermione. You're bloody useless here."

"I'm fine," Ron said. "Seriously, I'm fine. Let's just try again."

George frowned. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Ron said. He tried to clear his head and focus on the task at hand.

They were especially late getting home that night. Once again, Hermione wasn't there to greet them. Ron sighed and got their dinner plates from the icebox. He handed George his and cast a warming charm on his own and then poured them both a glass of pumpkin juice. George took his and sat down.

"You know," George said. "Summer Solstice is coming up."

"Yeah, what of it," Ron said and shoveled mushy peas in his mouth.

"I'm planning on taking a half day on the Solstice and then the rest of the week off."

"Yeah," Ron said. "That sounds good. We've been killing ourselves."

"I know," George said. "And I really appreciate all your hard work, but I think I've got enough products to reopen. If you're willing to come out occasionally and help me restock, I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure," Ron said. "I guess you won't be needing me every day anymore then."

"No," George said. "I think I'll be running the place on my own until it's really earning again. I'll pay you for your time though as soon as I have the money."

Ron nodded. "I appreciate that."

"Are you going to the party?" George asked.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno."

"Come on, have you ever been to a Solstice party?"

Ron frowned. "You know I haven't. They're age restricted and I could hardly have gone last year."

"Right," George said. "Well, it's a very good time. The big one is at White Moor Stone Circle in Dartmoor. We let the Muggles use the old one but the one we keep hidden is spectacular. You should go and take Hermione."

"Well," Ron grumbled. "I don't know about that."

"You should ask her," George said, getting up from the table. "Before someone else does."

Ron thought about that. Who else was going to ask her? There wasn't anyone else around, but then he remembered Viktor's letter and wondered if that Bulgarian git was planning on being in England for the Solstice. He frowned and went upstairs. There was light coming from under the door to Bill's old room, so Ron knocked on the door. Harry answered.

"Hey," Ron said.

"Hi,"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure," Harry said, stepping back.

Ron walked over and looked out the window. Crookshanks was stalking a gnome in the garden. "So," he said without turning around. "Hermione wasn't at breakfast this morning."

Harry didn't say anything.

"And she hasn't been having dinner with us either."

Harry waited.

"Is she just avoiding me or is she also not eating?" Ron finally asked.

"She takes her meals with the family," Harry said.

"She's eating then?" Ron asked.

"Some," Harry said. "If you're so concerned, you should talk to her."

Ron sidestepped the suggestion and said, "Are you and Ginny going to the Solstice party?"

"You know Gin can't and I'm not going without her."

"Sure, of course," Ron said. "Makes sense."

"Are you going?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "It's supposed to be a good time."

Harry didn't respond.

"Do you know if Hermione is planning on going?"

"You'd have to ask her that," Harry said, frowning.

"Right," Ron said. "Goodnight then."

"Night," Harry said.

xXx

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione still hadn't come down and it was time for Ron and George to go to work. His father had already left. Harry was at the table and Ginny had just walked into the kitchen. Molly was fixing another pot of tea.

"It's time," George said, rising from the table. He looked at Ron who stayed seated.

"I'm going to be in a bit late," Ron said.

George nodded. "Alright then." He stepped into the fireplace and was gone.

Everyone else at the table exchanged glances.

Ginny took two slices of toast and began making a sandwich with eggs and bacon. Harry poured another cup of tea for himself and one for her. They both rose from the table.

"It's such a lovely morning," Harry said.

"I fancy eating in the garden," Ginny said.

Hermione could be heard coming downstairs.

His mother poured herself another cup of tea. "I have sewing to do." She passed Hermione in the entrance to the kitchen.

Hermione paused in the doorway for a moment when she saw Ron sitting alone at the table. He could see the moment when she braced herself and then came into the room. He felt like an enormous prat. She poured herself a cup of tea and then surprised him by taking her regular seat next to him instead of sitting across from him. He looked at her, but she sipped her tea and didn't say anything or look at him.

Ron swallowed hard. She was better at this than he was. By not sitting across from him, she'd upset the dynamic of him on one side and her on the other. In a very easy move, she'd made it clear she wasn't interested in fighting. She was never this good on a chessboard, but she certainly understood the fundamentals of strategy. Without looking at him, she slipped an envelope out of her dressing gown pocket and slid it in front of him.

He stared at it. Viktor's thick, bold script spelled out her name and the address of the Burrow. Part of him really wanted to read it, to see what that Bulgarian git was saying to her, but he knew that was the wrong move. He slid the letter back to her. "I don't need to read that," he said.

"Would you have preferred it if I hadn't told you?" she asked quietly.

"No," Ron said. It was impossible to hide anything at the Burrow, and if she'd tried, that would have been so much worse.

"I don't understand the rules," she said. "I don't know what we are. I don't know what you want."

He wanted to keep her all to himself. He never wanted her to leave this farm again, so she wouldn't see how many men out there were going to be better than him, how many men were going to want her. Inevitably, she would prefer one of them to him, he was sure of it. Viktor was probably just the first of many, but it's not like there was anything he could do about that. "I don't either," he said.

"Fine," she said with an exasperated sigh.

"Hermione?"

She looked at him.

"Summer Solstice is on Sunday. Will you go with me to Dartmoor? There's a big party at the real White Moor Stone Circle."

She cocked her head at him. "Alright. But—"

"Good," he said, getting up. "I should get to work."

"But—" she said again. He was already gone.


	16. Hogwarts

In spite of Harry saying it was a lovely morning, it wasn't really. It was cloudy and after a few minutes, rain drove him and Ginny back inside. He took a peek first to see if the coast was clear. Hermione was sitting at the table alone with her head in her hands. "Are you alright?" he asked as he stepped inside with Ginny right behind him.

Hermione looked up. "I have no idea."

"Why?" Ginny asked. "What happened? Didn't he apologize?"

"Actually, no, he didn't, but he did invite me to the Solstice party in Dartmoor."

"Well, that's good, right?" Harry said.

"Is it?" Hermione asked. "I'm so confused at this point, I have no idea. Are we going as friends, as a couple, or what?"

"Maybe you should just ask him?" Harry said.

"I was going to, but he left before I got it out," Hermione said. "Are you two going?"

"I can't," Ginny said, frowning. "They draw an age circle around the stones. No one under seventeen is allowed in."

"We're going out to dinner and then to the free concert the Weird Sisters are giving at the park outside Hogsmeade," Harry said.

"I wish we were doing that," Hermione said.

"Why?" Ginny said. "The Solstice party at White Moor is supposed to be fantastic. My brothers have been raving about it for years."

"Right, but," Hermione said. "I'm just not sure a wild party is what we need right now."

"Sure, it is. A little drinking, a little dancing, hanging out with your friends. You'll be right as rain." Ginny said.

"You think?" Hermione said.

"Yes," Ginny said. "You'll see."

Harry didn't argue with her, but he felt like Ginny might be wrong about this.

xXx

The next morning, Hermione was at the breakfast table when Ron came down. He took his seat next to her and assumed all was forgiven. His mother had made a big pot of porridge which was warming on the stove. Hermione got up and handed him a bowl.

"Thanks," he said. He added cut up apple and walnuts that were already on the table and started eating. She made a non-distinct noise and sat down next to him. He kept glancing at her while he ate, but she didn't look his way even though they were seated right next to each other. He noticed that, although she'd sat next to him, no part of her was actually touching him, which was unusual. He leaned across her for a pitcher of milk so he had to make contact.

"Sorry," he said, but when he set the pitcher back down he left his thigh against hers. She didn't move away from him, which he considered a good sign. He had a very strong desire to rest his hand on her thigh the way she'd done to him the other night, but breakfast was hardly the time for that. She kept poking at her porridge. He knew how she felt. They'd eaten gallons of the stuff on the lam, and if he never ate it again, it would be too soon, but it was an inexpensive way to feed a lot of people, so his mother served it for breakfast at least three times a week. She used to make it every day when they were all at home. Of course, he's mother's porridge was far more delicious than the meager stuff they'd had in the tent.

xXx

Hermione watched Ron leave for work and wondered if she should try and talk to him later that night or if she should just leave well enough alone. The owls came with the post and Molly handed her two letters, one from Hogwarts, and the other from the Ministry of Magic.

The letter from Hogwarts said she had been accepted as an extension student to complete her seventh year. She was to write individually to professors in charge of the subjects whose tests she hoped to challenge. Enclosed was a list of professors for the upcoming year. Ginny was sitting across from her reading her own letter from Hogwarts. Hermione was about to ask her which subjects she was going to be studying for her N.E.W.T.s when Ginny abruptly got up and went outside, leaving her letter on the table. Harry gave Molly an apologetic look and followed Ginny outside. Molly sighed and went upstairs. There was a personal note from McGonagall inside Hermione's official letter. She told Hermione she would be refunded the cost of room and board and that she could pick up the money at her earliest convenience because the school was sufficiently repaired that she was now keeping limited office hours. There was a list of available hours printed at the bottom. Hermione smiled. At least she knew what she'd be doing with her morning.

She opened the letter from the Ministry. The Aurors had cleared her parents' house and there had been no damage. Whether the Death Eaters hadn't known the location or simply didn't get around to attacking it wasn't clear. She returned the letter to its envelope and considered the implications. She could go home. She didn't have an excuse anymore for not going inside the house and between the remains of her Muggle money and the refund from Hogwarts she could afford to buy whatever she needed for the next year provided she was frugal. She sat at the table and stared at the kitchen wall. She couldn't help wondering what her departure from the Burrow would mean for her and Ron. Perhaps it would give him some space, although, since he'd been working with George, they'd certainly had a lot of that. The idea of living in her parents' house alone wasn't very appealing, but she couldn't keep living off of the Weasleys either. Staying at the Burrow wasn't right now that she had a safe place to go. Maybe Ron would still want to date some. Maybe he could come visit and they would finally have some privacy. At her parents' place they could talk, really talk, and if that went well, they could do so much more. She thought of the night after the Battle of Hogwarts and a shiver ran through her. They seemed so far from that place now, but perhaps, with time for just them, they could get back there. She looked at the two envelopes in front of her. They represented her future. She needed to remember that in the days to come. Ron was already living his life. George might even ask him to go into business with him permanently. Ginny would be going back to Hogwarts in the fall and Harry, he need only say what he wanted and the Ministry would see that it happened. She wondered if Harry had chosen a path yet. She suspected not. For the moment, he seemed only interested in spending as much time as possible with Ginny before she went back to school. She wished Ron felt that way about her, but she knew that wasn't fair. Their circumstances were completely different. Still, the last few weeks, she'd missed him terribly. She sighed. She wondered if he'd missed her at all. She got up and went to take a shower.

xXx

An hour later, Hermione Apparated to the front gates of the castle. She went to the gatehouse, expecting to find someone to register her and let her in, but it was locked. She went back to the gates and noticed a bell had been installed on one of the tall columns. She rang it and the winged boar on top of the column leaned over and said, "Who goes?"

"Hermione Granger to see Professor McGonagall."

The boar closed its eyes and resumed being a statue. A moment later the right gate opened. Hermione stepped inside and the gate closed behind her with a loud clang. She walked the long path up to the castle. It looked better than the last time she'd seen it but there was still a lot of work to do. Most of the rubble appeared to have been cleared away, but there were great holes left throughout the buildings. The entrance courtyard was devoid of any vegetation when it used to be covered in flowers and shrubbery. The doors to the Great Hall were flung open, which was reasonable since some of the walls and part of the ceiling were blown out. Hermione tried not to think of all the dead lain out in the hall after the final battle. Trying to ignore the anxiety crawling up her spine, she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and walked quickly through the hall to the corridor outside the headmaster's office. She didn't know the password, so she rang the bell. The gargoyle opened its eyes. One of its wings was missing as was part of one foot, but it said, "Who goes?"

"Hermione Granger to see Professor McGonagall."

There was a grinding sound of stone on stone, but the spiral staircase eventually opened and she walked up. The office looked very different from the last time she'd seen it. Gone were all the complex machines. Gone was the phoenix perch. The furniture was much less austere and the room was set up for comfortable conversation with ornate tapestries on the wall and a gray tabby cat curled up on a blue tartan armchair. The Pensieve still sat in the corner and the paintings of previous heads of school were still on the wall. Dumbledore winked at her as she stood waiting for McGonagall. She felt ambivalent about seeing him. She was surprised to see Snape on the wall as well, although he was asleep in his frame.

"Hermione?" McGonagall said as she came down the stairs from the upper story of the office. "You're looking well."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "The Weasleys have been taking good care of me."

"I'm glad to hear it. The last time I saw you, you definitely looked in need of care. I suppose you're here about the refund."

"Yes, and to let you know that I'll be moving back to my parents' house in London next week, so you should resume sending correspondence to that address."

"Alright, not too much damage then?" McGonagall said as she made her way to her desk.

"According to the letter I received from the Ministry, none at all. I guess the Death Eaters didn't find it or never got around to it. Either way, it's supposedly fine."

"You haven't seen it then?" McGonagall asked as she pulled a large ledger toward her and opened it. She pulled out a quill and made a note.

"Only from the outside," Hermione said. "I did some work in the garden earlier in the summer just to keep the neighbors happy.

"Surely, you didn't do that on your own," McGonagall said, looking up sharply.

Hermione could feel herself blush. "Probably ill-advised, but yes."

McGonagall furrowed her brow in concern. "That seems a bit reckless even for you."

"Um, I just…needed a bit of time to myself after the war. That can be hard to come by at the Burrow."

McGonagall nodded. "I'm sure that's true. How are the Weasleys? How's George?"

"They're coping. Good days and bad days."

"Of course," McGonagall said sadly. "So full of life those two, and such a pair. It's hard to imagine one without the other."

"Yes," Hermione said. "Even after all these weeks, it's still odd. But George is coping. He's going to reopen the shop and Ron is working with him to create the products."

"I'm glad to hear that. Ron always was good with charms. Like the rest of his brothers, he's a strong wizard," McGonagall said.

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "He is. He…" Her voice cracked.

McGonagall gave her a sympathetic smile. "Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded. "It's just a lot, being back here. I wasn't…it's just a lot."

"I understand. Was there anything else you needed?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Your refund then." McGonagall said and pulled a cloth sack full of coins out of locked cabinet behind her desk and handed it to Hermione, who slipped it into her beaded bag.

"Thank you," Hermione said.

"Why don't you take the Floo from here?"

"Thank you," Hermione said. "That's a good idea."

McGonagall got up and held out a jar of Floo powder. Hermione took a handful and then took the Floo Network back to the Burrow.

xXx

When Hermione stepped out of the kitchen fireplace at the Burrow, Molly was fixing herself a cup of tea. "Can I get you a cup?" she asked Hermione.

"Yes, thank you" Hermione said.

Molly handed her a cup and then went into the parlor where she picked up her sewing. Hermione sat down in one of the worn armchairs across from her. "What are you working on?"

"New pajama bottoms for Ron. The ones he has now barely reach his ankles." She cast a charm to cut the fabric.

Hermione chuckled softly. "I feel like he's grown an inch since we got back."

Molly smiled. "It does seem like it and they were too short before you left."

Hermione smiled and sipped her tea. Ron had been continuously outgrowing his clothes since she'd met him. She wondered when he'd finish growing so he could finally have some clothes that really fit.

"How was Hogwarts?" Molly asked.

"Better, but still in rough shape. I don't know how they're going to get it ready to reopen in the fall."

"Powerful witches and wizards staff Hogwarts, not to mention the veritable army of House Elves that work there. They'll get it done. Don't you worry."

"I know you're right," Hermione said. "But it's hard to imagine it right now."

"I'm sure," Molly said. "It must have been difficult being back there."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but…"

"You weren't expecting it to be quite that hard?"

"Right," Hermione said.

Molly smiled sympathetically and then sighed. "Ginny is struggling with the idea of going back."

Hermione bit her lip and didn't say anything.

"I know a lot of it has to do with not wanting to be apart from Harry, but well, she's also been through a lot at that school. Still, if she could just finish this last year, it would open so many doors for her."

Hermione nodded. "I'm sure she'll come around. Ginny's too smart to skip her N.E.W.T. year. Harry won't want her to either."

"You think?" Molly asked.

Hermione smiled. "He loves her. He wants what's best for her. Finishing her education is important. He knows that."

"And yet, it doesn't look like he has any plans to finish his," Molly said.

"Well, that's different," Hermione said.

"Yes," Molly said quietly. "I suppose it is."

xXx

Harry and Ginny were walking in the orchard. He could tell she was upset, but he couldn't decide if it was a good idea to ask her about it or if he should just let her tell him when she was ready.

Ginny stopped under a pear tree and turned to him. "I'm of age at the end of the summer," she announced.

Harry smiled at her. "August eleventh, I know."

"Right, so what makes them think they can force me to go back to school?" she said angrily.

"I'm sure they don't think they can force you to do anything," Harry said. _Whether you're of age or not_ , he thought.

"I don't want to go back," she said, but some of her anger had drained away.

"I know," Harry said, "but you should. Having some N.E.W.T.s will open doors for you that you might want opened. Besides, you'll be captain of the Quidditch team. You don't want to miss that."

She frowned at him. "I don't see you worried about doors being opened."

He quirked his lips and smiled. "I didn't want to tell you this," he said in a serious tone. He took her hands and her brow wrinkled in concern. "But I'm Harry Potter."

She frowned for a moment, but then chuckled softly. "No. That can't be right."

"It is," he said. "I didn't want you to know, because I thought you might feel differently about me."

"Well," she said, seriously. "I do. I feel differently about you than I've ever felt about anyone."

"Because I'm the Chosen One," he said quietly.

"Yes," she said. "I chose you, and that's yet another reason, I don't want to go back."

He let go of her hands and put his arms around her instead. "All the more reason you should."

She pulled away from him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sighed. "I think your parents are worried about us."

"I don't care what they think," she said.

"I do. I plan to be part of this family for a long, long time and I don't want them thinking I undermined them or pushed you into anything."

"You're not pushing me anywhere," Ginny said, anger edging back into her voice.

"I know that," Harry said. "But you know they worry about the Voldemort connection."

She frowned and looked away from him. "They don't understand."

"How could they?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "I don't want to go back. Last year was so awful."

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

She looked at him. "What are you sorry for?"

"I wasted a lot of time last year hiding when I should have been more proactive. I—"

"Stop!" Ginny said.

"But I—"

"Stop!" Ginny repeated. "Don't you dare apologize for not know exactly what to do and when to do it. You're seventeen. How much are you supposed to bloody know? Dumbledore didn't exactly leave you a clear path, did he?"

"No, but—"

"Stop!" she shouted. "No buts, you bloody died to stop that bastard! I'll not have you apologize for anything you did last year. Not to me, not to anyone else."

He opened his mouth to explain but then closed it and kissed her instead. She seemed to approve of the change of direction and enthusiastically participated, perhaps too enthusiastically, and soon he had to take hold of her hands, before things went too far there in the orchard in the middle of the day. She greeted his efforts with a low frustrated growl.

"I hate this," she muttered against his neck.

"Me too," he said. "But let's not make things worse with your parents, okay?"

She sighed. "Fine."

xXx

Late that night, while Hermione, Ron, and George were eating their dinner, Bill showed up.

"Hey," George said. "What brings you out at this hour?"

"We've had a breakthrough on the Gringott's issue," Bill said.

Hermione stood. "I'll go get Harry." She Disapparated and a moment later was knocking on Harry's bedroom door. He clearly hadn't been sleeping and opened the door fully dressed and wide awake. "Bill's here. He has Gringott's news," Hermione said.

"Right," Harry said and followed her downstairs.

Ron was in front of his parents' room. "Do you mind if Mum and Dad hear this?" Ron asked them.

"I don't," Harry said.

"Me either," Hermione said.

"Great, we'll be down in a minute then."

Harry and Hermione proceeded downstairs. George was finishing his dinner. "I'm assuming I can't hear this."

Bill smiled. "You always were clever."

Hermione sat down but didn't finish her dinner. Bill made tea and Harry took a seat. Bill set cups of tea on the table just as his parents and Ron joined them. George excused himself and went upstairs. Ron sat next to Hermione and picked up a roll. He realized she wasn't eating and had her hands clenched tightly in her lap. He continued eating his roll, but put a comforting hand over hers.

When everyone was seated, Bill cleared his throat. "I know you three have been waiting anxiously for this to be resolved, but the Goblins are understandably very upset." He shook his head. "The amount of damage to the building was extensive, but more than that, their pride is hurt."

Hermione pulled her hands from under Ron's and pressed them to her face. Ron could hear her breathing pick up. He pressed his thigh against hers and wrapped his arm around her waist. She was trembling.

"Despite that," Bill said. "The Ministry remains resolute that there not be any repercussions against you. We have a plan in the works that just might suit all parties but that's probably going to take a while. In the meantime, the Goblins have conceded to allow you access to your accounts."

Hermione lowered her hands and looked at Bill.

"But only through an intermediary," Bill said.

"What does that mean exactly?" Harry asked.

"Your funds won't be frozen anymore, but you won't be allowed into the bank. You'll each have to designate someone to do your banking for you. Well, Harry and Hermione will. So far, we haven't convinced them to allow you to open an account Ron," Bill said, clearly frustrated.

"Lucky I don't have much to put in one then, isn't it?" Ron said with false cheer. Hermione rested a hand on his knee and he decided it was worth not having any money if it got her to touch him.

Bill looked at Harry. "Before you ask, you can't designate Ginny since she's underage." He looked at Hermione. "And I know you and Fleur are close, but please don't ask her. That would only complicate my role in the negotiations."

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

Bill reached into his cloak pocket and produced two pieces of parchment. "You'll need to designate your intermediary and then sign these. I'll need them back as soon as you can get them to me."

"Can we both use the same person?" Harry asked.

"Sure," Bill said.

"Alright then," Harry said. "We'll discuss it and get back to you."

"Right," Bill said, standing. "I should get home. Fleur hates it when I work late."

"Alright, dear," his mother said. She stood and hugged him and then he Disapparated.

xXx

The moment Bill left, Hermione stood and went out the back door into the garden. Ron gave Harry and his parents an apologetic smile and followed her.

"Hey," he said, as he stepped out of the house. "Are you alright?"

"I just needed some air," she said without turning to look at him. "I'll be back in in a minute."

She was standing in the middle of the garden with her arms wrapped around her and her head down. He sighed and went to stand next to her. "It's alright," he said quietly. She nodded but didn't say anything. He put his arms around her and she turned and pressed her forehead to his chest. "You're alright."

"I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was sure tonight was it."

"Maybe there is no other shoe," Ron said. "Maybe we're actually safe. Maybe everything will be fine."

"Do you think so?" Hermione asked into his chest.

"I hope so," he said and held her tighter. When he finally felt her start to relax, he let her go. "You ready to go back inside?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Ron asked. "Not trusting things to go our way? You'd be a fool otherwise."

She smiled. "The war is over. Why is it so hard to relax?"

Ron shrugged. "Too tense for too long, I suppose."

"Maybe, or maybe it's just being stuck in limbo since the last battle, but I guess that's over now."

"How do you mean?" Ron said, an uneasy sensation coming over him.

"I got my Hogwarts letter and I talked to McGonagall this morning. She gave me the refund on room and board and the Aurors have cleared my parents' place. Now that I can access my bank account again, I think the universe is telling me it's time."

"No one is telling you anything. You can stay here as long as you like," Ron said, trying to push down the anxiety that was welling up.

She smiled at him. "I appreciate that, but now that I don't need your parents to feed and shelter me, it would be wrong to stay. I need to stand on my own two feet and once I'm settled, I want to show them some of the hospitality they've shown me. I know I can never really repay them for everything they've done, but it would be nice to have them round for dinner."

Ron didn't know what to say. She was leaving. She was going off to live in London on her own. That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. She shouldn't do that. But before he could voice any of that, she said, "Do you think your Dad would be my intermediary?"

"What?" Ron said. "Uh, sure, probably."

"He seems like the logical choice since he goes into work at the Ministry most days."

"Right," Ron said, nodding, but not really paying attention. He couldn't imagine Hermione not being at the Burrow, or more accurately, not being with him. He followed her inside with a tight fist forming in his stomach. Earlier in the summer, when she went to London ostensibly to work in her parents' garden, she'd never invited him to join her. He wondered if she would invite him now.

Harry and Hermione both designated Mr. Weasley as their intermediary and Ron sent Pigwidgeon off to Bill with the paperwork. Ron's parents retired for the night and Ron was hoping Harry would go up too so he could talk to Hermione, but he was disappointed when she went to bed first. Exhausted after a long day at the shop, he dragged himself upstairs.


	17. Solstice

The next morning, there was a letter for George. "Angelina wants us all to play Quidditch the day after Solstice," he said. "Are you up for it, Ron?"

"Uh," Ron said, glancing at Hermione who was reading the paper and nibbling on a piece of toast in a way that made him want to throw her on the table and nibble on her. He shook his head to clear the image. "Unless you need me for anything," he said to her.

She glanced at him over the paper. "No. I'm fine. Go ahead."

"Yeah, alright," he said somewhat glumly to George. She didn't want him to help at her parents' house then. He could already feel her pulling away. She'd move back to London, spend her days going to Hogwarts or revising at home. In the evenings, she'd meet with former classmates in Diagon Alley, which probably wasn't far from her parents' place. Eventually, some bloke would buy her a drink at the Leaky Cauldron while Ron was stuck penniless in Devon. This imaginary bloke was better looking than him, smarter, funnier, and had a great job. Maybe it would even be another bloody professional Quidditch player. That would be just his luck. Tonight was it then. They'd go to the Solstice party and then everything would change. He felt sick.

xXx

Early in the evening, Hermione was trying to pick out an outfit to wear to the party. Nothing looked right.

Ginny was lying on her bed watching Hermione discard outfits.

"I don't have any clothes for this," Hermione said.

"It's going to be a warm night," Ginny said. "Just wear shorts and a T-shirt. It's dancing and drinking outside. Not the kind of thing you really dress for. You want to be cool and comfortable. And sexy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No pressure then."

Ginny smiled. "Exactly. You're overthinking this."

Hermione frowned at her. "You get out of bed, run a brush through your hair, throw on whatever is at hand, and you look amazing. Not everyone is like that. Most people aren't like that."

"Oh, come on," Ginny said.

"Come on what?" Hermione said in exasperation. "You're ridiculously beautiful. You know that. Guys were practically cued up to date you in school. That bears no resemblance to my experience. I want to look good tonight, but not like I'm trying too hard. You wouldn't understand that because you've never had to try at all."

"Wow," Ginny said, wide-eyed. "You are seriously wound up."

Hermione frowned at her. "It's your stupid brother's fault. I don't know what he wants or even how he sees us. I want him to want me, but I don't want to throw myself at him, because frankly, I've done that, and well, we see how that worked out."

Ginny grimaced and got out of bed and dug around in her own dresser. She threw a pair of khaki shorts at Hermione. "Try these on."

"But—" Hermione said.

Ginny held up a hand to stop her. "Just try them on." The shorts fit perfectly but were shorter than Hermione would normally wear. "Excellent," Ginny said. "Now, which of Ron's T-shirts that he gave you fits tightest."

"Gin—"

"Which one," Ginny asked.

Hermione sighed and held up one of the orange T-shirts. "This one."

"Great, put it on."

Hermione pulled it over her head.

Ginny smiled. "Perfect. If you were trying to attract anyone else, I'd tell you to wear a different shirt, but Ron really likes it when you wear one of his."

"Seriously?"

"Of course," Ginny said. "Short of peeing on you, it's the easiest way for him to mark you as his."

"Oh, right." Hermione chuckled but then she asked seriously, "Do you think he thinks I'm his?"

"I think he'd like to think that."

"But you don't think he does?"

Ginny shrugged. "I think he's not sure, but wearing his shirt to a party full of your friends says you are."

Hermione looked in the mirror. "I don't know."

"That's the problem," Ginny said.

"What is?"

"You don't seem to recognize that you're attractive. Your skin is beautiful, kind of like milky coffee and your hair is wild but also great. You can do anything with it. Your eyes are such a dark brown they're almost black. You're very striking, but even if you weren't, you have loads of the most attractive attribute in the magical world."

Hermione wrinkled her brow in confusion. "What?"

"You're incredibly powerful. That's the biggest draw of all."

"Come on," Hermione said, blushing.

Ginny arched an eyebrow at her. "You know it's true. No sense in pretending otherwise."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't recall anyone coming up to me and saying he loved the way I use a wand and asking me out."

"How do you think you managed to pull Viktor Krum at fifteen?" Ginny asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Well," Hermione said. "Um…"

"Didn't you tell me you two talked a lot about magic?"

"Yes, but—"

"And McLaggen, all you had to do was show a little interest and he came running."

Hermione pulled a face. "But he was awful."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't change the fact that he wanted you. If you'd shown the same interest to any number of other guys, you would've gotten the same response," Ginny said.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said. "That doesn't affect how Ron feels."

"Of course, it does," Ginny said. "You know he doesn't handle the pressure of open competition well."

Hermione recoiled. "Please. I'm not a Quidditch match."

Ginny smiled sympathetically. "Aren't you?"

"What?" Hermione said.

"You think so much like a Muggle sometimes. There aren't billions of us on the planet, are there? Competition is fierce for a mate in our crowd."

Hermione snorted. "I thought the big draw was pure blood."

"Sure, among the nutters, but the sane among us are drawn to magic and you have loads of it. Just wait, guys are going to come sniffing around. Ron knows that and it worries him."

"That's crazy," Hermione said.

Ginny shrugged. "If you say so. I'm going to go get in the shower. Harry and I are leaving for Hogsmeade soon."

"Yeah, alright," Hermione said, looking in the mirror again. She cast the spell to braid her hair and put on her canvas trainers. She cast a cleaning charm on them. They'd seen better days. She wished she had sandals, but didn't have any with her and she wasn't ready to go get a pair of hers from her parents' house. She knew she had to get over that and soon, but the idea of going into that house was so daunting. She heard Ron and George come in downstairs. She looked at her image in the mirror again and picked up the black silk scarf she'd purchased for the funerals. She rolled it and tied it around her neck, tucking in the ends. She looked in the mirror again. She hated wearing the scarf, but couldn't stand the idea of people asking what happened, so there wasn't much to be done about it. She cast a charm and the scarf was Cannons orange, and then she did a simple glamor charm to give herself some color in her cheeks and lips and a little eyeliner and called it good enough.

Ron was coming upstairs as she was going down. "Hey," he said. "I'm going to shower and change." He stopped and looked at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Nice shirt."

She smiled back at him. "I'm glad you approve. I wasn't sure orange was my color."

"You look smashing in orange," he said. "I won't be long."

"Alright. We don't have to meet Luna for the Portkey for a while yet."

"Great." He winked at her before running upstairs.

Ginny was standing in the bathroom door. "Told you," she said before going into her room to change.

Hermione continued downstairs to find Harry waiting in the parlor. "Ginny will be down in a minute."

"Good," Harry said, looking at his watch. "We need to get going. Are you excited about tonight?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess. I hope it's fun. We could use some fun."

"I hear you," Harry said. Ginny came downstairs and he got up. "I guess we're off."

Mrs. Weasley came into the parlor. "You two have a good time. We'll be at the Patil's party. Probably not too late though. Your father is tired."

"Alright, Mum," Ginny said and kissed her mother on the cheek.

Hermione sat down in one of the worn armchairs and thumbed through a Quidditch magazine while she waited for Ron. There was an article on Viktor, but she ignored it. The last thing she wanted was for him to come downstairs to find her reading an article about Viktor. On second thought, she tossed the magazine aside and went to find something on the bookshelf. She was still perusing when Ron came downstairs. He too was in khaki shorts and trainers, but he had on a blue plaid camp shirt instead of a T-shirt.

"You ready," he asked.

She nodded and they went outside and Disapparated to the Rook. Luna was waiting in the yard when they arrived. Neville, Padma, Parvati, and Cho were all waiting with her. Hermione was delighted with the mini-DA reunion. Everyone hugged each other and chatted happily while they waited for the Portkey to activate. Ron was talking to Cho about the upcoming match between the Chudley Cannons and the Tutshill Tornados. Hermione smiled. The night was starting well. When the Portkey glowed, they all took hold of the old umbrella and Hermione felt the nauseating sensation of something hooking behind her navel. A minute later, Ron was holding her arm as she bent double trying not to vomit. She hated Portkeys. Thank goodness she could Apparate home. After a minute of deep breathing, she straightened up.

"Are you alright?" Cho asked.

"I'm fine," Hermione said weakly.

"She doesn't travel well," Ron said. "Unless she's in complete control. She can Apparate like a champ, but she's not so good at other forms of travel."

"How odd," Cho said.

"No, it isn't," Luna chimed in. "You probably have Snarfgiggles," she said quite seriously to Hermione. "That's why you get sick."

"She probably has what?" Cho said, but Luna was already wandering off.

"Best not to ask for clarification," Neville said. "You'll only end up more confused."

Ron nodded in agreement.

Hermione just shrugged. "So, what are you doing these days, Cho?" she asked to change the subject.

"I'm studying to be a healer at St. Mungo's," Cho said. "And I've never heard of Snarf-whatevers."

"Who has?" Ron said, as they followed Luna and Neville up a path between rows of stone until they reached a bog. On the other side, up the hill, a huge bonfire blazed in the night. They each Apparated over the marshy ground. An age line was drawn around the stone circle and in the center was a bonfire where several hundred people were dancing and talking and drinking. They all crossed the age line and Ron took Hermione's arm.

She looked up at him. "What?"

"Let's get a drink."

"Alright," she followed him to the bar set up next to the tallest of the stones which looked to be about two meters high.

xXx

Ron hadn't expected the wave of anxiety that poured over him as they entered the crowd. He could see Aurors all around the edge of the circle. He knew that most of the Death Eaters were either dead or in Azkaban, and the few that were left were too busy hiding to attack a big event like this, but despite repeating that to himself over and over, a cold fear crept up his spine. He didn't want to be there. Hermione seemed unaffected as they kept running into former classmates, many of whom had been in Dumbledore's Army, which should have been a comfort, but instead just reminded him of the battle at Hogwarts.

His height helped him get the barkeep's attention, so he got them both a Dragon Scale and handed Hermione one. He drank his down quickly, hoping the alcohol would calm his nerves. Hermione was happily chatting with Parvati who was introducing them to her cousin, Bikram. Ron shook his hand without really registering anything about him. The music was throbbing and the crowd was surging around the fire which was casting weird shadows on the moor. He wiped a hand down his face and ordered another ale.

Parvati tugged Hermione's arm. "Come on, let's dance."

Hermione turned to Ron. "You want—"

"Not right now," Ron said. "You go ahead." He tried to ignore the look of disappointment on her face while Parvati pulled her away. He walked over to one of the large stones and put his back against it, scanning the crowd for problems. Harry was their best fighter and he wasn't there. If something happened, it would be down to just him and Hermione. No, he reminded himself, the Aurors were there and so were the others from the DA. This was fine. He swallowed more ale and told himself to calm down.

Hermione danced for a couple of songs and then came back over to where he was standing. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Ron said.

"Did you want to get something to eat? There's a grill set up on the other side of the circle."

"Nah, I'm good." He reached into his pocket for a Galleon. "Get something if you want," he said, holding out the money to her.

She frowned at him. "I'm fine. Do you want to dance then?" He shook his head. She looked back at the crowd where he could see some of their classmates dancing in a group. "Well…" she said uncertainly.

"I'm not much of a dancer," Ron said. "Go ahead."

"Hermione!" Dean shouted. "Come on. Prince!"

She looked at Ron and then back at their friends. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said without meeting her eyes. He knew Prince was a half-blood singer from America that Dean and Hermione both liked. Apparently, her parents liked him too, which seemed weird. He couldn't imagine liking a band his parents listened to. She gave him one more disappointed look and went to join the others. He didn't even understand how they were going to dance to this song. It just seemed like talking to him, but then it picked up. He frowned as Dean leaned over and said something to Hermione. She laughed and snapped her fingers and her hair came out of its braid spilling over her shoulders in a curly sable mane. Ron frowned.

"What are you doing?" George asked as he walked up holding two Dragon Scales.

"Nothing," Ron said. "Just standing here."

"I can see that," George said. "Why?"

Ron shrugged.

"Your girl is over there dancing. You should be too or she'll end up going home with someone else tonight."

Ron snorted. "She's not like that."

George shook his head sagely. "Pour a few drinks in and we're all like that." As he said it, Ron noticed Bikram Patil twirl Hermione around and she laughed. He scowled.

"Excuse me," Ron said and waded into the crowd until he was standing right behind Hermione, who turned as she danced and bumped into him.

She smiled. "Hi. I'm so glad you decided to join us," she shouted over the music.

"I'm not joining you," he shouted back. "I want to leave."

"What?"

He took her elbow and led her out of the crowd, past the age line, and further from the throbbing music.

"What did you say?" she said.

"We should go," Ron said.

Hermione looked around. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ron said, scowling. "This is lame. It's too loud and I'm done. Let's just go home."

"Go home? But you haven't even danced yet. There's sure to be a slow song soon. Besides, all our friends are here." Hermione said, clearly confused as to why he wanted to leave.

"Harry isn't," Ron said.

"No, but he's not at the Burrow either. He and Ginny are at a concert in Hogsmeade. Do you want to go there instead?"

"No," Ron said. The idea of a different crowd wasn't any more appealing than this one. "I just want to go home."

"We haven't even been here an hour. Why did you invite me if you didn't want to come?" Hermione said. She was getting upset and he didn't know how to explain without seeming like a weakling. It was crying on her in bed all over again.

"Look, you wanted—"

"Me? I didn't even know about this party until you invited me. This was your idea and now you don't want to stay. I don't understand."

Ron shook his head, furious at her for questioning him. Why couldn't she ever just go along? Why did everything have to be a fight with her? "Fine. Stay then," he said, pulling his wand. He Disapparated before she had a chance to say anything else.

xXx

Hermione stood there for a long time staring at the place Ron had been. She couldn't believe he'd left like that.

"Aren't you Hermione Granger?" a man's voice asked.

She turned to see a sandy haired guy who looked to be about Percy's age maybe a bit older coming toward her. "Yeah."

He held out his hand. "Robert Hilliard. You probably don't remember me. I was a Ravenclaw prefect your first year. She shook his hand and he smiled. "I was consistently surprised that whole year that we didn't get you, but now that I've read about your exploits with Harry Potter, I can see the hat was right to sort you into Gryffindor."

She shrugged. "I suppose."

"I'd love to take you out sometime, dinner maybe?"

"Oh, um, I'm flattered, but I'm sort of with someone now," she said awkwardly.

"That guy who just Disapparated on you? Wasn't he a Weasley?"

"Yes, Ron."

"Ah," Robert said. "The one who was with you and Potter. I knew his brother Percy. Sharp guy."

"Yes, well, Ron just popped home for a bit. He'll be back. It was nice meeting you, but I should get back to my friends." He nodded and she hurried back to the other members of the DA who were still dancing together.

"What did Robert want?" Cho asked as Hermione slipped in next to her.

"Oh, um, to take me to dinner."

"Ooh," Cho said, raising her eyebrows. "He's quite a catch, a real rising star at St. Mungo's."

"Well," Hermione said.

"Where did Ron go?" Luna shouted over the music.

"Back to the Burrow," Hermione said. "He's not feeling well." She wasn't sure whether she lied to cover for herself or for him. Either way, the lie fell from her lips before she'd even considered what to say.

"That's too bad," Luna said. "Are you going to stay?"

The question made Hermione angry, angry that Ron had invited her to this party and then clearly didn't want to spend any time with her. She couldn't understand why he'd bothered. "Yes!" she said.

"Good!" Luna grinned.

Hermione flicked her hand at the bonfire and the flames began to pulse with the beat of the music.

"Nice!" Bikram shouted and took her hand. She let him twirl her. It was Solstice and she was a witch. She would not let Ron's surliness deny her this night. She spent the next two hours dancing with other members of the DA and Bikram. After they were all ready for a break, they headed over to the grill and got dinner. Luna had brought blankets that she'd shrunk with a spell and put in her pocket. She enlarged them and they laid them out and all sat around chatting as they ate. Lee, George, and Angelina joined them. Cho talked about St. Mungo's. Luna talked about the upcoming year at Hogwarts and how weird it would be to go back there. Everyone commiserated. Bikram sat near Hermione and talked about his work with enchanted furnishings. He was handsome, but not terribly interesting.

George plopped down next to her. "How's it going, Granger?" He said her last name in a slow drawl.

"Fine," she said.

"Where's Ron?" George asked.

Hermione sighed. "He went home."

Angelina leaned around George. "What? Did you two have a row?"

"No," Hermione said. "He didn't feel well." George gave her a knowing look and she glanced away. "I'm going to the loo," Hermione said and got up and hurried toward the toilet tent.

While she waited in line, a tall, blonde woman behind her said, "Aren't you Hermione Granger?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

"Wow," the woman said. She looked familiar. Hermione thought she might have been in Hufflepuff. "You don't remember me."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "Were you in Hufflepuff?"

"Yes," the woman said with a big smile. "Margaret Cornfoot. I played Quidditch."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, of course. How are you?"

"Good, good. I play for the Falmouth Falcons now. Chaser."

"That's great," Hermione said, wishing the line would move faster.

"Nice trick with the fire back there," Margaret said. "You didn't even use your wand."

"Oh," Hermione said, kicking herself for showing off. "You know..."

Margaret smiled. "I do. Listen, would you like to have a drink sometime?"

"Um," Hermione said, unsure of what she was being asked. "Are you-?"

"Asking you out? Yes, I am," Margaret said, leveling a smoldering gaze at her.

"Oh," Hermione said. "Um, I'm sorry, I don't…I mean…I like men."

"Too bad," Margaret said. "But it was worth asking." She winked at her.

Hermione chuckled awkwardly, realized a stall had opened and gratefully slipped inside. What was going on tonight? And then Ginny's words came back to her. Power was the biggest draw of all and she had loads of it. She'd never really thought about that before. She knew spells came easily to her, but that was about so much more than power. There was so much work involved in learning new spells and practicing to perfect them, although, she knew she didn't have to practice most spells more than once or twice to have them right and she supposed that was down to power. She shook her head, and yet, Ron seemed unaffected. She wanted to go home and she realized she didn't mean the Burrow. She wanted to go to her own home, to her own room, and sleep in her own bed. She sighed. She was ready. Tomorrow, she would go to her parents' house and air it out and see what all she'd need to stay there. Tomorrow, she would move on. It was time. She flushed the toilet and went to wash her hands.

As she walked back toward Luna and the others, she decided she was done for the night. "I think I'm going to head out," she said as she approached the blanket where they were sitting.

"So soon?" Bikram said, getting to his feet.

"Yeah," Hermione said. "I've got a big day tomorrow."

He smiled. "I understand. I don't know what the situation is with you and that ginger, but I'd love to take you to dinner sometime this week, if you're interested."

"Um, thank you," Hermione said. "But…it's complicated with the ginger."

"Oh," Bikram said, his smile fading. "Perhaps some other time then, if it gets uncomplicated."

She smiled but didn't answer. "I'll see you all later," she said to the others and started for the age line. She had to be beyond it and the wards so she could Disapparate.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was walking up the path from the bog. He was smoking a cigarette. "Hermione," he said with a smile.

"Hello Justin," Hermione said. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"My parents and I went abroad last year for safety."

Hermione nodded. "I understand."

"Do you? You're Muggleborn but were right in the thick of it."

"Well, you know," she said awkwardly.

"Number two on the Ministry's Most Undesirable List, very impressive," Justin said.

She smiled. "Thanks. It was a life-long dream," she joked.

He laughed. "I'm sure. You know, I was talking to McGonagall about challenging the exams so I can finish my N.E.W.T.s and she said you and a few others are doing that as well."

"Yes," she said. "Hey, can I bum one of those?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but held out the pack to her. "Sure, I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't," she said automatically, but then corrected herself. "Very often anyway."

He nodded. "Yeah, me either, until last year." He snapped his fingers and lit the cigarette for her. "It was bloody awful and I wasn't even in England."

"Yeah, that it was."

"On the lam with Ron and Harry, what was that like?" Justin asked and took a drag on his cigarette.

"Exhausting," she answered honestly.

"I bet. So, are you leaving?" Justin asked.

"I need to get back," Hermione said vaguely.

"I'm surprised you came at all, but good for you. I guess you and Ron are married now. Is he home with the baby?"

"What?" Hermione said.

"I saw in the paper that you two had a son. Not much of a surprise, I guess."

Hermione shook her head. "That was a misprint." She took a long drag on the cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke into the night. "I'm no one's wife and no one's mother. That was a friend's baby."

Justin smiled. "It's nice to know the _Prophet_ still works hard to get things right."

Hermione chuckled. "At least they're consistent."

"Which is so important in these uncertain times," he said and gave her an appraising look. "Well then, if you're not doing anything, I have tickets to the Harpies versus the Wasps Wednesday night."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, but I already have plans Wednesday."

Justin nodded. "Another time then."

"Maybe," she said. "But I need to get going." She smiled. "Gotta feed the baby."

"Right." He chuckled.

"Thanks for the cigarette," Hermione said.

"Any time." Justin nodded and stepped over the age line. She Disapparated.

xXx

A moment later Hermione appeared just outside the garden gate at the Burrow. While she finished smoking, she looked at the lopsided house and wondered if anyone was home. She supposed Ron was if no one else. When she stepped into the kitchen though, Harry was holding his wand to the kettle and Ginny was getting a box of tea out of the cupboard.

"Hi," Hermione said.

"Hey," Harry said. "You're back early. Where's Ron?"

"Isn't he here?" Hermione asked.

"We haven't seen him," Ginny said. "But we only just got home. Why? Did something happen?"

Hermione could feel tears threaten. She closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself and then said, "It was his idea to go, but then, from the moment we got to the party he didn't want to be there. Then he left."

"He left?" Harry said.

"Yes," Hermione said, sitting at the table. "He left a few hours ago."

Ginny got out another cup and Harry filled them all with hot water. They sat across from Hermione and he slid one of the mugs over to her.

"Thanks," she said, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. "It's been a very strange evening."

"I don't understand why he left," Ginny said.

Hermione sighed. "He said it was lame and too loud, but it wasn't lame, although it was loud. Still, loads of our friends were there. The music was good. Even the food was good."

"He left you there?" Harry said crossly. "On your own?"

"Well," Hermione said. "It wasn't as if I wasn't safe. There were a lot of Aurors there and I was with DA people."

"Still," Harry said. "That's not on."

"Seriously," Hermione said. "It's fine. I could have gone back with him. I chose not to."

"Oh," Ginny said, "So, he wanted to come back here, just the two of you. Well, only it wouldn't have been because Mum and Dad are home. She made sure we knew that the moment we came in."

"Right, well, he didn't say, 'let's steal back to the house for some time alone.' He was cross," Hermione said. "Clearly, we can't manage social occasions. They never work out for us."

"Oh, come on," Harry said. "That's not…well…"

Hermione frowned at him. "Please. You know what? I'm just going to go to bed. I need this night to end."

xXx

Harry and Ginny sat at the table for a while after Hermione went upstairs. Harry was fuming. "This is bollocks," he finally said. He stood and put his mug in the sink. "I'm going to talk to Ron."

"Alright," Ginny said, standing. "But before you do, can I just say…" She put her arms around him. "What a lovely night I had."

Harry smiled and kissed her. "Me too. But now I have to go knock some sense into my best mate before he completely wrecks things with my other best mate."

Ginny smiled sympathetically. "You saved the world. Surely, you can handle this."

Harry shook his head. "You'd be surprised."

She kissed him again. "For luck."

"Thanks, I'm probably going to need it."

xXx

Harry blew out a frustrated sigh and knocked on Ron's door.

"Bugger off," came the reply from inside.

Harry opened the door. "I don't think so." He was shocked to see Ron sitting on the floor in the corner of the room looking as despondent as he'd ever seen him. "Hey," he said, and closed the door behind him.

Ron looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "Seriously, bugger off. I don't want to talk."

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I get that. Only you left Hermione on her own at a massive party tonight and…" He shook his head. "Not only is that not on, but it's so unlike you, I'm thinking maybe you should tell me something, so I know it's really you."

Ron covered his face with his hands. "Hagrid has big hairy spider friends. And she was safe. All the surviving members of the DA were there and loads of Aurors. I kept telling myself it was safe. I kept trying to relax. I just…couldn't." He let out a half-choked sob and shook his head, trying to rein himself in.

"Ron," Harry said quietly, kneeling in front of him. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I was fine right up until we got there, but then there were all those people and the music was so loud and I thought what if something happened? You weren't there and all those people…" He shook his head. "I know that's crazy. I know most of the Death Eaters are dead or in Azkaban and the others are all in hiding. There's no way they're organized enough right now to plan an attack on a big event like that. And even if they had, there were loads of Aurors there. I know that. I kept telling myself that, but the longer I stayed the more panicky I got."

Harry sat down. "And you couldn't have told Hermione that?"

"What?" Ron said, looking up. "No!"

"Why not? She would've understood."

"I know that," Ron said. "But that would be just another example of me being a bloody baby. She was fine, dancing, and laughing. She was totally fine and I was a complete nutter."

Harry shook his head. "We all have different things that set us off. Seeing Draco and Narcissa at that funeral caused her to come undone. I can only sleep for about four hours a night and that's not continuous. We're all suffering in one way or another Ron. Don't shut her out, you need her. She needs you and you really hurt her tonight."

Ron sighed and pressed his fists to his eyes. "I know, but I can't talk to her right now. I've got to pull myself together before I do that. I'm so sick of this." He wiped his face on his sleeve.

Harry blew out a frustrated breath and got to his feet. "Alright, but don't let it go too long. Seriously."

Ron looked up at him. "I'll talk to her. Don't worry about it."

Harry nodded and let it go for the night.

xXx

Hermione was getting ready for bed when Ginny came in. She closed the door behind her. "Are you alright?"

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed. "I don't know. I've had a really weird night."

"I'm sorry Ron was such a prat," Ginny said, sitting across from her.

"It wasn't just that. You were right earlier."

"About what?" Ginny asked.

Hermione sighed. "I got asked out four times tonight after Ron left."

"Oh, my," Ginny said, raising her eyebrows. "That's impressive."

"Well, I don't know about that, there was a lot of drinking going on," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"So, who asked?"

"Robert Hilliard—"

"Who?" Ginny asked.

"Ravenclaw prefect from our first year."

"Oh, okay," Ginny said. "Was he good looking?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess."

"But you said no."

"Of course, I said no," Hermione said crossly. "Even if I wasn't stupidly in love with your brother, I don't even know Robert. I barely remember him from school, he was so far ahead of me."

"Okay," Ginny said. "So, who else asked you?"

"Bikram Patil."

"Ooh," Ginny said. "I know him. He is seriously handsome."

"Yes," Hermione said. "But not terribly interesting. He's big into charmed furniture. I think he runs his uncle's shop or maybe it was his uncle's and now it's his or will be. I don't know. He talked a lot about it."

"That doesn't sound very interesting," Ginny said.

"No. Then I went to the loo and Margaret Cornfoot asked me out while we were waiting in line."

"The Quidditch player?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"Wow," Ginny said. "Too bad you're not gay, she's amazing. Wow, Margaret Cornfoot, I'd love to meet her."

Hermione sighed. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you with my sexual orientation."

Ginny chuckled. "That's okay. I forgive you. Who was the fourth then?"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley asked me out right before I left, but not until after I told him that Ron and I didn't have a baby together. I guess he reads the _Daily Prophet_ but not the _Quibbler_."

"Too bad," Ginny said. "The _Quibbler_ is, in many ways, the superior paper."

"Yes, well, he had tickets to the Harpies versus…I don't remember, but the match is Wednesday night."

"They play the Wasps on Wednesday," Ginny said. "Too bad you're in love with Ron. That's going to be a great game."

"I'm sure," Hermione said. "Maybe I should've accepted. Justin is nice enough."

"Nice enough for what?" Ginny asked with raised eyebrows.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "A Quidditch date. It would serve Ron right, ditching me like that."

Ginny gave her a concerned look. "You're not serious."

"No, of course not. I don't want to date other men, but I might have to, if Ron keeps on the way he has. I don't understand him. It's exhausting."

"You two need to talk, really talk," Ginny said. "I'm sure if you just say how you're feeling, you'll work it out."

"I think you're making a big assumption there," Hermione said.

"Maybe, but isn't it worth trying?"

Hermione frowned at her, but then stood up. "You're right. This is ridiculous."

"What?" Ginny said. "I didn't mean now. It's after midnight."

"I don't care," Hermione said.

"But if Mum and Dad see you sneaking up—"

"I don't care about that either and I don't intend to sneak," Hermione said and opened the door. She walked upstairs with a purpose and a growing head of steam. She didn't even bother knocking, she just walked into his room. He was getting dressed for bed and was pulling off his T-shirt. He already had on pajama bottoms.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," he said, holding the T-shirt up in front of him as though he were a Victorian lady.

"Oh, please," she said, closing the door behind her. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Right," he said and angrily tossed the T-shirt on the floor.

She was unprepared to talk to him shirtless. It was too distracting. She shook her head and reminded herself what a bloody prat he was. She stood for a moment trying to collect her thoughts and trying not to feel guilty about the spiral scar that spread out from the missing chunk of his left bicep.

"Did you need something?" Ron said, clearly irritated. "Or have you decided to be like the rest of my family and burst into rooms unannounced now."

"I'm not family," she said in a low tone. "I came in here to tell you how unfair it was for you to invite me to a party and then ditch me there."

"I didn't ditch you," Ron argued. "I told you to come with me."

"Bollocks," she said.

"Hermione," Ron said, clearly taken aback by her language.

"Bollocks," she said firmly. "You invited me and then didn't want to do anything. If you didn't want to go, why did you invite me in the first place?"

Ron walked away from her and looked out the window. "I thought I did want to go, but then when we got there…" he shrugged.

"That's it? You just didn't want to be there?" She couldn't believe him. None of this made sense.

"Yeah, that's right," Ron said, but he wouldn't look at her.

"So, you didn't want to be there with me or—"

"I didn't want to be there at all. It's nothing to do with you."

"Except I'm the one you ditched," Hermione said angrily.

"I didn't ditch you," Ron repeated.

She looked at him. He'd gone red in the ears, a sure sign that he was lying. He'd filled out a bit in the last few weeks. All that good food coupled with endless chores had built muscle on his lean frame. She hated how much she wanted him and despaired that he didn't return those feelings. "Yes," she said. "You did." She turned to leave.

"Hermione," Ron said, stepping toward her. "Please, don't be angry. I—"

"I'm not angry," she said, realizing that she meant it. She wasn't angry. She was hurt. Hurt that he'd ditched her, hurt that he didn't want her the way she wanted him, hurt that she'd loved him for so long, and now it looked like he would never love her back the way she wanted him to.

"Well," Ron said, "uh, good then. Look maybe tomorrow, when I get back from Quidditch, we can—"

"I have plans tomorrow," Hermione said, cutting him off.

"Yeah, what?"

"I'm going to go clean my parents' place and see what I need to get sorted to start living there."

"Tomorrow?" Ron said.

"Yes." She didn't understand why he was surprised. They'd talked about this.

"Oh, well, do you need help. I don't have to play Quidditch."

"Thanks, but no." Here he was again, offering to be her best mate, but she needed space. She knew they'd always be friends, had to be, she couldn't imagine life without him, but she needed a little distance right now, to get her head straight.

"Yeah, but," Ron said inching closer. "When you get back, maybe we can take a walk or something."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm not even sure I'll come back here tomorrow night. I just…you really hurt my feelings—"

"I didn't mean—" he started.

She cut him off. "Maybe not, but still." He moved forward like he was going to hug her, but she held up her palm to stop him. "Please don't. I need some time."

"Oh," he said. "Sorry. Really. I'm sorry."

"Okay, but I still need some time," she said, and opened the door.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Of course. Sure."

She walked downstairs with a heavy heart. Instead of going back to Ginny's room, she went into the kitchen to compose a letter to the Portkey Office requesting a Portkey from Istanbul to the airport in Guangzhou, China. She'd been thinking about going to Australia for a several days now and how she would go about doing it. She was afraid to request a Portkey directly to Sydney, because if there were still any Death Eater sympathizers left in the Ministry they would know where her parents were. She couldn't Apparate to Sydney, it was too far and she'd never been there, although her parents had before she was born and always spoke fondly of it, which is why she'd chosen to send them there. The furthest east she'd ever been was Istanbul. Her plan was to Apparate from city to city across Europe until she got to Turkey, where she'd pick up the Portkey to China. Once in Guangzhou, she could take a Muggle flight to Australia. She didn't speak Chinese but knew enough about translation and revealing spells to make do if she had to. She still had a lot of Muggle money left, so getting a flight wasn't a problem. When she was in London tomorrow, she'd pop into a travel agent and have them book the flight for her, so she could pay in cash. When she'd finished the letter, she sent it off with Pig, who was fluttering around the kitchen. Anxiety tightened her chest as she went upstairs to bed. She spent most of the night staring at the ceiling. She had to do this, but it was daunting to say the least.


	18. Adulthood

Mrs. Weasley had made individual honey cakes for Summer Solstice and there was a platter of them on the table when Hermione came down for breakfast the next morning. Ron, Harry, and George were gathering together Quidditch equipment. Ron looked up when she walked into the kitchen.

"I think that's everything," George said.

"You two go ahead," Ron said.

Harry and George glanced at each other. "Alright," Harry said. "See you there."

Hermione ignored them and poured herself a cup of tea.

Ron cleared his throat. "Mum and Dad are having breakfast with Auntie Muriel," he said. "But she left honey cakes for us."

Hermione took a seat. "Great," she said without looking at him.

Ron sat opposite her. "I hate it when you're cross with me."

She looked at him. "It's not as though I like it either."

"Then don't be cross," he said. "I'm sorry about last night. I'll make it up to you."

She was so tired from lack of sleep and anxious about the next week's activities, she just nodded. "Fine."

He smiled. "Great. I'll see you later then."

Hermione sat at the table sipping her tea. She tried eating a bit of honey cake but it seemed to lodge at the top of her throat. She was too anxious to eat. The owls came with the post, including Pig, who brought a notice from the Ministry with information on where to find her Portkey in Istanbul tomorrow. She stared at the letter. She'd half expected them to decline her request because of the Gringott's situation, but perhaps being Harry Potter's friend had unforeseen perks. She blew out a slow breath. This was actually happening. She opened the _Daily Prophet_ to distract herself from the enormity of it.

Ginny came into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea before taking the seat Ron had vacated. "What are you up to today?"

"I was thinking of going out to London," Hermione said, closing the paper.

"Why?" Ginny asked. "It's such a nice day."

"I thought I'd check on my parents' house," Hermione said, feeling her stomach tighten at the prospect.

"Oh," Ginny said. "Want some company?"

Hermione's first inclination was to decline, but the idea of facing that big house alone and then going off to Australia tomorrow to try and locate her parents made her suddenly desperate for companionship. "Thanks," she said. "It would be nice to have the company."

xXx

That afternoon, after cleaning and airing out the house, Hermione told Ginny about going to Australia while they were having lunch, so when they were done with the house, Ginny followed her to the travel agency to book a trip. The flight was expensive, but not as bad as Hermione had feared given that she was booking it last minute. The travel agent was able to find a good price on a last-minute, round-trip, red-eye, direct flight out of China that Hermione wouldn't have any trouble making because of the Portkey.

"I don't understand how you're getting to China though," the agent said.

"A friend is taking me on a private jet tonight. He has business in China, so he offered me a lift to save me the fare," Hermione said.

"Fantastic," the agent said, giving her an appraising look. "I wish I had a friend with a private jet."

Hermione laughed lightly. "It certainly has its moments."

The agent looked at the tickets he'd just printed. "Such a short trip, you can't stay longer?"

"No, sadly," Hermione said. "It's a business trip, so I've got to fly in for a meeting and then come right back."

The agent raised his eyebrows. "That's mental. Your company should at least be paying for the flight."

"Oh, they are," Hermione said.

"Then why not use a business account, we have those," the agent said.

"It's a pretty new business," Hermione said. "We're not set up for that, but if this meeting goes well, I'll recommend you to my gov."

"Oh," the agent said, giving her a knowing look. "That's great then." He handed her the tickets. She smiled and tucked them in her beaded bag.

"That went well," Ginny said as they left the building. "He seemed nice."

Hermione sighed. "He probably thinks I'm a prostitute or a drug mule."

"What?" Ginny said, stopping in the center of the sidewalk, forcing Muggles to walk around them.

Hermione took her arm and pulled her along. "Oh, come on, who else would be in a private jet and then do such a quick trip from China to Australia and back at my age?"

"That's not a regular Muggle thing then?" Ginny said.

"Hardly, but I don't care. I've got a flight and that's all that matters."

"I'm not really up on currency exchange," Ginny said as they walked toward the Muggle entrance for the Leaky Cauldron, "but that seemed pretty expensive."

"I know," Hermione said. "I hated to spend the money, but I need to see them. I didn't want to ask for a Portkey right to Sydney though. I don't know who might still be in the Ministry."

Ginny nodded. "I understand. Still, you're planning to do an awful lot of magic in a really short amount of time. Are you sure you're up to that?"

"I'm fine," Hermione said with false heartiness. "Your mum's been steadily feeding me for weeks now."

"Right," Ginny said, but without much enthusiasm. "Maybe you should stay longer though, give yourself some time to rest up."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not like I can stay with my parents and I can't afford the hotel bill to stay more than one night. Besides, it's not like they'll know me."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Are you sure though? Three days to Australia and back. That's mad."

"It might be, but that's what I'm going to do," Hermione said resolutely. They walked through the Leaky Cauldron to the alley and Hermione Apparated them back to the Burrow without difficulty. It no longer mattered who she took side-along. She'd done it so often that as long as she knew the person fairly well, she could take them with ease.

Ron and Harry weren't home when they got back, so Hermione went upstairs to pack her beaded bag and make sure she had everything organized for her trip. It was cool in Australia this time of year, but she had plenty of warm clothes with her from life on the run. She would leave tomorrow and be done with it. When she came back, she would start her life in London, finish her education, and then get a job. She sat on the side of the bed and stared out Ginny's bedroom window. This was adulthood then. The whole process seemed daunting, especially given that for over a year now, she hadn't expected to have to worry about it, but now here she was. She looked around Ginny's room and realized she was going to miss it. In no way could she study for her N.E.W.T.s here, but she would definitely miss the family, but mostly, she would miss Ron. She was sure he would come to visit. He and Harry and Ginny all would. They were her best friends. It's not like she'd never see them again, but it wouldn't be the same. She thought about Ginny's suggestion that Harry move in with her. Hermione knew Ginny only wanted that so she and Harry would have a private place to be together, but she did have a point. Living alone wasn't particularly safe and Harry had shown no interest in moving into Grimmauld Place and she couldn't blame him. Never was a house better named than Grimmauld Place. It really was a grim old place.

xXx

The next morning, after consuming as much breakfast as she could manage given how nervous she was about her trip, Hermione Apparated to Brussels. Ron and Harry had both been upset with her for doing the trip to Australia alone. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had also tried to talk her out of it. As she choked down part of a waffle from a street vendor and then Apparated to Paris, she wondered if maybe they were right. Nevertheless, she was doing it. She walked around for an hour to give herself a break, found a shop selling shawarma, ate, and then Apparated to Rome. She found a shop selling tigelle, ate some, and Apparated to the National Garden in Athens. Fortunately, the weather was perfect, so she found a quiet, secluded spot, cast the same charms around her she used to cast around the tent, and fell asleep after casting a charm on her wand to wake her by vibrating in two hours. She didn't need the alarm since she only slept for an hour and half. She Apparated to Beylerbeyi Palace in Istanbul. Underneath the tail of the lion sculpture, by the main entrance, was hidden a crushed Efes Pilsen can. Hermione picked it up, touched her wand to it, and felt the familiar nauseating yank behind her navel.

She had never taken a Porkey so far before and was grateful she hadn't had anything to eat since Rome. Regardless, she still vomited in the alley where she landed next to a side entrance to Guangzhou Baiyun International Airport. She wiped her mouth and stared at the building. The gently curving arch of the airport's roof made her think of a plane's wing. She went inside the large, crowded structure and looked around at the cavernous space and all the people. She didn't speak Chinese, but the airport looked like other airports she'd been in with her parents, so she followed the crowd to the security check point and showed her Muggle passport and tickets. Her beaded bag contained any number of things that wouldn't make it through security but none of them appeared in the X-ray image. The X-ray only showed a wallet, a hair tie, and some lip gloss. She was waved through without incident. Finding her gate took a bit more effort but eventually she found an airport employee who spoke English and could direct her. An hour later, she was on the plane bound for Australia. Her plan was to try and sleep for most of the nine and a half hour flight. She was exhausted from all the magic she'd performed as well as the stress of travel and the anxiety of the situation. She closed her eyes and didn't wake until the flight attendant asked the person next to her if she wanted dinner. After eating all of her pork fried rice, she fell back asleep until the plane landed.

The airport in Sydney was as big and crowded as the one in Guangzhou. The architecture wasn't quite as pretty, but the signs were in English, so she automatically liked the place. She found a bank of telephones and then looked for one that still had its phonebook. Eventually, she found one and opened it to the business pages and looked up dental practices, and there it was, Granger Dental Clinic on Bridge Street. She looked around for currency exchange. After exchanging some of her pounds for Australian dollars, she looked for the signs to public transport and found a bus to Bridge Street in an area called the Quay. The bus wouldn't come for twenty minutes so she went back inside and called her parents' practice. She explained that she was visiting from London and she'd lost a crown and was wondering if they could see her. She knew her parents were always sympathetic to people who had dental emergencies while abroad. The receptionist put her on hold and returned a few minutes later and said they could see her at ten o'clock tomorrow, and told her how to manage the lost crown in the meantime. On the way back to the bus stop, she went into one of the airport shops and bought a map of Sydney.

On the way to the Quay from the airport, she looked at the map and tried to orient herself, but it was strange and uncomfortable to be doing something like this without Ron and Harry. She didn't need them to help navigate but it was such a daunting task emotionally that she missed their support, particularly Ron's. Having him hug her and tell her that everything would be alright would be really helpful right now. Even if he only hugged her as a friend, it would still be nice. She decided to locate her parents' practice before looking for the hotel, so she'd know where to go the next morning. Their practice was in an old part of the city that was popular with tourists, so it shouldn't be difficult to find.

xXx

The journey to the Quay took half an hour and then she walked along Bridge Street until she found number ten. She stood staring at the plain concrete building. Somewhere inside, her parents were going about their day unaware that their daughter was just outside, unaware that they even had a daughter. She felt sick. She'd tried so hard to convince them to go, to get them to understand how dangerous it was for them to stay, but they wouldn't leave unless she came with them, and she couldn't do that. The spell had been an absolute last resort, but in the end, she'd cast it because she was running out of time. She remembered thinking as she walked away from the house, that she likely wouldn't survive the war, so it didn't matter whether they lost her now or lost her later, that at least this way, they wouldn't feel the pain of the loss. Only she had lived and now she was by herself trying to be an adult. She'd come alone to prove she could do it. That she could stand on her own. She had to.

To her shock, her father came out of the front door of the building and lit a cigarette. She watched him for a moment. He seemed older. His hair was grayer than it used to be and he seemed a bit more stooped in the shoulders than she remembered. He leaned against the building and blew out a long stream of smoke. Without stopping to consider the idea, she approached him.

"Excuse me," she said. Her father looked up. "I'm supposed to be meeting friends at a hotel near here. They said it was off Bridge Street but I can't remember the name."

"Could it be the Intercontinental? That's only a few blocks from here," her father suggested and the familiar sound of his voice made her want to weep.

She took out the map. "Could you show me?" He leaned in to look at the map and she could smell his bay rum aftershave. She felt tears well up. He pointed to where Macquarie Street intersected Bridge Street.

"It's right there, luv. A five-minute walk at the most."

"That's great. Thank you," Hermione said, her voice cracking.

"Are you alright?" her father asked.

"I'm fine. Just stressed. You know how it is when you get turned around in a strange city."

He nodded. "That I do."

She looked at his cigarette. "I don't suppose I could bum one of those."

"Sure," he said with a smile. "Although, I feel obligated to tell you, it's a nasty habit and you shouldn't do it."

"You're absolutely right," she said, smiling back at him as he held out the pack and she took one.

He lit it for her. "You're from London. Am I right?"

She smiled at him. "Yes." She took a long drag on the cigarette, feeling the warm smoke fill her lungs.

"I'd know that accent anywhere. Great city London."

She nodded. "You're from there too?"

"Yes, me and the wife have only lived here a year."

"Oh?"

"Yes, a bit of lark actually, just up and moved one day."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes. Sydney is a great town. We've got a flat overlooking the harbor. Business is good. It's all just tickety-boo." He looked at her, cocking his head as he did so. "You seem so familiar."

"I have one of those faces," Hermione said. "I should get going. I'm supposed to meet my friends soon."

"Right," her father said. "Off you go then. Have a good day."

"Thanks," Hermione said, and held up the cigarette. "And thanks for the fag."

"You're most welcome. You should quit."

"You too," she said and smiled at him before walking away. Her heart ached as she walked to the hotel.

xXx

The Intercontinental Hotel was large and venerable looking. It was also one of the hotels that offered discount rates to members of her parents' travel club. They'd given her a membership when she turned sixteen and she had her card with her. She booked one of their least expensive rooms for the night and paid in cash. It was too early to check in, so at the suggestion of the concierge, she crossed over to the park across from the hotel and walked through the Royal Botanic Garden. The weather was cool and crisp and the gardens were lovely even in winter. As she strolled through the paths, she thought about the brief interaction with her father. Whether he thought she looked familiar because the charm wasn't solid or if it was just that she bore a striking resemblance to her mother, she wasn't sure. Either way, she shouldn't have approached him without doing a glamour charm first. She wouldn't make that mistake tomorrow when she went to the practice.

As she continued through the garden, she thought of Mrs. Weasley and how much she would appreciate the beautiful grounds. She really wished she had some company. She missed Ron and Harry and Ginny, but particularly Ron. The beautiful day in the open park would make for the perfect opportunity to talk, really talk, about them and about the future. She knew they loved each other, and she knew she loved him as more than just a friend, but she was less sure he was attracted to her that way. Not that she didn't think she had any merits in that regard, but just because other men might think she rated a date, didn't mean Ron did. There was no accounting for taste and she might not be his cup of tea. After all, Justin and Bikram weren't hers, and they were both perfectly nice blokes.

As she approached a statue of a boy pulling a thorn from his foot, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The statue turned its head from looking at its foot and winked at her. She approached the large rocks the statue rested on and realized there was a magical curtain there, she passed through into Magical Sydney and smiled.

She was on a broad street lined with shops and busy with witches and wizards moving about their daily business. She stopped in a pub and got a meat pie and a lager for lunch and sat in the pub's window and watched the people moving about on the street. It was nice to be in a magical community, it was less lonely somehow, even though she didn't know anyone. When she finished eating, she wandered up and down the street, window shopping. She spent a couple of hours in Brown Books, but limited herself to buying just one title. She settled on a _History of Magic in Australia_ and went back outside. At the end of the street was a menagerie next to an owlry. She walked through the menagerie, admiring the adorable wallabies among the usual cats, toads, and other pets. Then she went next door to the owlry. There was an old witch at the counter complaining to the shopkeeper about a magnificent owl who was perched next to her.

"He's worthless," the old witch complained. "My son bought him for me and he lollygags and doesn't deliver mail on time. He's haughty and he eats too much. I want a refund!"

The man pointed to a sign behind him. It clearly stated in large letters: Do not purchase Tasmanian Masked Owls as gifts. The owl choses the owner. No refunds if this rule is not followed.

"Well, what am I supposed to do with this worthless bird?" the old woman shouted.

The manager sighed. "I can offer you twenty-five percent off on another owl."

"Twenty-five percent? That's outrageous. You're going to turn around and sell this owl again for a fortune."

"No, I'm not. He'll have to be deeply discounted because he's pre-owned and it might take months or even years for him to pick a new owner."

"That's not my fault!" she shouted.

"No, it's your son's. Thirty percent off and that's my final offer."

The old witch slammed her wand down on the counter. "Fine. I'll send my son back to deal with you. Keep the damn bird."

"Fine," the shopkeeper said blandly. "But the deal remains the same."

The old witch huffed, gave him an evil look, and stormed out.

The shopkeeper looked apologetically at Hermione. "I'm so sorry. Did you need help with anything?"

"No," Hermione said. "I'm just looking." She approached the large white-faced bird with the distinctive dark outline around its face. "He's so handsome."

She held up her fingers for the bird to sniff.

"You might not want to do that," the shopkeeper said. "They have a tendency to nip if they—oh my, he likes you."

"He seems quite clever," Hermione said, stroking the soft dark feathers on the owls back. "I don't know what that old woman was talking about."

"You want him?" The shopkeeper asked. "Four galleons. That's seventy-five percent off."

Hermione knew that was an exceptionally good price for an owl and that she'd need one once she moved into her parents' place. "I'd love to have him, but I live in London and I don't know how I'd get him home. I couldn't ask him to fly all that way."

"Not a problem, love, we've got a shipment going to London tonight. When are you heading back?"

"Tomorrow," Hermione said.

"Perfect. He'll be fed and watered and waiting for you when you get back. I won't even have to leave him at Eeylops."

"Then I'll take him," Hermione said, smiling. She handed the shopkeeper four Galleons and wrote out her address.

He handed her a small box of owl treats. "These come with the purchase of an owl."

Hermione tucked the treats into her beaded bag. She stroked the bird's head. "What's his name?"

"Doesn't have one so far as I know," the shopkeeper said.

Hermione looked at the bird. "How about Xerxes?" She stroked the owl's feathers. "Does that please you?" The bird rubbed his beak against her hand and let out a happy coo. "Xerxes it is then," Hermione said.

The shopkeeper made a note and smiled. "You know just how to treat him. He'll do right by you. These owls are proud. They need a little deference."

"Of course," Hermione said. "He's handsome and clever. You have to respect that." She gave the big bird one last stroke. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"That you will," the shopkeeper said. "G'day."

By the time, Hermione left the magical street and reentered the Royal Botanic Garden, the sun was starting to set. She headed back to the hotel feeling a bit better. She had an owl now and a new book to read. Her night wouldn't be so bleak. When she got back to the hotel, she checked in, and then asked the concierge if there was a place to get take out Indian food nearby. She hadn't had a curry in ages. The concierge suggested the Spice Room and gave her directions and the phone number. It was only a couple of blocks from the hotel, so she decided to give it a try later for dinner. She went upstairs to her room and took a shower before settling in to read her book before dinnertime.

xXx

After she picked up dinner, she went back to her room and watched a Fleetwood Mac retrospective on television while she ate. Her parents loved music and Fleetwood Mac was one of the bands they both enjoyed. Her father had purchased The Dance, the band's concert video, for Christmas for her mother sixth year. They'd watched it as a family until Stevie Nicks sang Silver Springs and Hermione had left the room in tears. Her mother had given her a minute and then went upstairs after her and the whole Ron and Lavender saga had poured out of Hermione in one sobbing rush. Her mother had held her and commiserated on how stupid boys could be.

Hermione turned off the television and went to stand at the window to look out at the harbor. She could see the famous opera house with its white sails lit up at night. She thought about Ron's concern for the kitchen elves during the battle at Hogwarts and that first kiss in the middle of the battle, in front of Harry, without any care that she'd just dropped a stack of deadly fangs. Ron had dropped his own stack of fangs and his broom, and had responded with such enthusiasm that he'd lifted her off her feet. In that moment, she'd thought for sure he felt exactly as she did. After all, they'd had so many interrupted moments before, but was all of that just the pressure of the war, the heat of the battle? It hadn't been for her, but had it been for him? She thought about the night after the final battle, how sweet he'd been in bed, how he'd said he loved her, but perhaps that had just been pillow talk. She sighed and considered the last time they'd kissed, in the garden, when George had interrupted them. As with their first kiss, he'd responded enthusiastically, but he hadn't initiated it. He never initiated anything more amorous than a hug. Was that because he wasn't that into her or just that she generally led things in their relationship? She wasn't sure and she hated that. She wanted to be sure. She needed to be sure because so much was riding on getting it right. She sighed. Her mother would be good at untangling all this. Unfortunately, she didn't really have a mother anymore. All she had was a dentist. A tear slipped down her cheek. She pressed her forehead against the glass of the window. Her life was a complete mess and she wasn't even nineteen yet.

xXx

The next morning, after a fitful night's sleep, Hermione woke and took a long shower hoping the hot water would wash away some of the horror of the night's dreams. All night long she'd dreamed of walking through Hogwarts or the Burrow or her parents' house looking for people and finding no one. She was endlessly alone and knew it was all her fault. She'd laid in bed until eight-thirty. Her time was all messed up. She was jet-lagged and exhausted from all of yesterday's magical exertions. She knew she should eat a big breakfast since she planned on heading back to England after her dental appointment, but there was a tight fist in her stomach so she knew she wouldn't be able to keep anything down.

She brushed her teeth, flossed them the Muggle way, then for good measure, she cast a cleaning charm on her teeth too. She looked in the mirror at the crown on her right side first premolar. "You can do this," she said to her image in the mirror. She pointed her wand, took a deep breath, and used an unsticking charm to pop off the crown. She'd known it would likely hurt, but the sharp pain put her on her knees breathing heavily. She sat down on the bathroom floor and spit the crown into her hand. She pulled some toilet paper off the roll and wrapped it around the fake tooth, took a deep breath, and got up and looked in the mirror. The stump the crown was attached to seemed okay although it was very sensitive. Luckily, she would have it fixed soon. She blew out a nervous breath and got dressed. When she was ready, she cast a charm to straighten her hair and make it blonde. She lightened her skin tone and made her eyes blue. She looked in the mirror and decided she was sufficiently altered.

As she walked to her parents' dental clinic, she thought about cracking the tooth that'd had the crown on it. She'd broken the tooth after second year. She'd gone home for the summer holidays, and her first night back, she'd had a nightmare about being petrified, and had fallen out of bed. She'd hit her mouth against her cauldron and cracked the tooth. Despite explaining to her parents that she could go to St. Mungo's and have it fixed magically and it would be as good as new, her parents insisted on fixing it themselves with a crown. She'd never bothered to have the repair replaced magically and now she was glad she hadn't.

She walked into the lobby of the building where her parents' dental clinic was and took the elevator to the third floor. She signed in at reception and waited to be called. She really hoped her mother would replace the crown. She knew that was the kind of work her mother preferred, but she had no way of knowing if they'd hired another dentist to work with them. She fretted about it until the receptionist called her name. A hygienist walked her back to a small room and Hermione took a seat in the reclining chair. The hygienist took a look in her mouth, praised her for having the cleanest teeth she'd ever seen, and told her a dentist would be with her in a moment to address the missing crown. Hermione took out her wand and quickly cast a numbing charm on her gums so the procedure wouldn't be so uncomfortable and waited anxiously to see who would come in to do the repair. A minute or two later, she was relieved to see her mother come in. She didn't anticipate the wave of emotion that washed over her when she saw her. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, come now," her mother said. "I know it's scary being at the dentist, but I promise you, it won't be that bad."

Hermione nodded. "Sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

"That's okay, dear. I'm used to it. Let me just have a look. Can you open wide?" Her mother took a seat on a rolling stool and looked carefully at the remaining tooth. "This looks good. Do you still have the crown?"

Hermione handed her the wad of tissue. "I kept it."

"Good." Her mother inspected the crown. "You sound like you're from London."

"I am," Hermione said.

"Oh, whereabouts? We used to live in Heathgate."

"How odd," Hermione said. "I live in Hampstead."

"Goodness," her mother said. "What a small world. What brings you to Sydney?"

"I'm on my gap year traveling with friends," Hermione said.

"How lovely," her mother said. She rolled away and began prepping the crown to be reattached.

"Have you lived here long?" Hermione asked.

"Not quite a year, actually," her mother said.

"It seems like a great city. Do you like it? "

"I do," her mother said, looking back at her. "It's nice and we've met some lovely people, but sometimes, I really miss London and can't think why we ever left."

"You could always come back," Hermione said casually.

"Oh, I don't know," her mother said, returning to the crown. "We've settled in here."

"Ah," Hermione said. "Kids in school, that sort of thing?"

"No," her mother said wistfully. "We don't have children. Always meant too, just didn't happen. But we have two of the most adorable little Yorkshire terriers you've ever seen." She rolled back toward Hermione. "I don't think we're going to have any trouble reattaching this. To be honest, I don't know how it came off in the first place. Your tooth looks fine and the crown itself isn't damaged at all."

Hermione shrugged. "It just came off."

"Huh," her mother said, looking at the crown again. "I don't understand, but we'll attach it right this time and it shouldn't give you any more problems."

"Thanks," Hermione said. "So, you have dogs?"

"Yes, and they're spoiled rotten. I would love to blame my husband, but it's just as much my fault." She chuckled. "Now, I'm going to cement this back into place and you should be good to go in about twenty minutes."

Hermione nodded. "That's great."

For the next few minutes, while her mother replaced the crown, she talked about the dogs and about life in Sydney and things Hermione should see while she was in town. When she was done, she gave Hermione instructions about when and what she could eat for the next twenty-four hours. Hermione stood and her mother smiled. "You're all set. I'm going to wave the fee since all I did was cement it in place."

"Thank you so much," Hermione said and hugged her.

"Oh, uh," her mother said awkwardly. "You're most welcome. My goodness."

Hermione stepped back and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. It's just been a trying few days."

"That's alright, dear. Enjoy the rest of your holiday."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

Hermione backed out of the room, loathe to leave. She wanted more time but she couldn't think of any reason to stay. She smiled awkwardly and left. She managed to make it to the lobby before the tears started. She walked back to the hotel, crying the whole way. Back in her room she packed everything in her beaded back, took one last look to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, and then went downstairs to check out. She crossed the street back to the Royal Botanic Garden and walked around for over an hour before Apparating back to the airport. She left Sydney at two o'clock in the afternoon but she was gaining time and arrived back in China at eleven in the morning. She'd tried to rest on the plane, but wasn't very successful, so she read the book she'd bought in Sydney, thankful that it was such a large tome. She was offered a meal but declined it for fear that she'd vomit after the Portkey back to Istanbul. Once in the airport, she made her way outside to a secluded area where she withdrew the crumpled Efes Pilsen can, touched it with her wand, and was yanked back to Istanbul.

Not eating turned out to be a wise choice, because she spent a few moments dry heaving on the steps of the Beylerbeyi Palace before she could successfully Apparate back to Athens. The journey left her lightheaded, so she found a street vendor and got a bottle of water and drank it in the National Garden before Apparating back to Rome. The tight fist in her stomach wouldn't let her eat anything. In Rome, she wandered around the Pyramid of Cestius for an hour before Apparating back to Paris. She knew she should stop and eat something and rest before continuing, but she couldn't stand the thought of waiting and her stomach was still in knots. She just wanted to get back to England and back to Ron. She needed his arms around her. She needed something solid to cling to. He loved her, and even if it was only as a friend, she needed some love. After only a few minutes in Paris, she Apparated to Brussels.

Her hands were shaking when she landed. She sat down on the curb next to the fence in front of Manneken Pis with the iron fence against her back and rested her forehead against her knees for a minute. She didn't know where to go next. Part of her desperately wanted to run back to the Burrow. She wanted to see Ron, but she didn't want to see anyone else. She was exhausted, weepy, and distraught. The idea of coping with the whole family was too overwhelming to contemplate. If it would just be Harry and Ginny with Ron, she would definitely go back there, but it was too much with Ron's parents and George and anyone else who might be there. She sighed, took a deep breath, checked to make sure she was alone, and Apparated to her parents' back garden in Heathgate. When she opened the door to go in through the kitchen, she sobbed. The empty house perfectly encapsulated the despair of the last few days. Xerxes surprised her by coming through the open door and landing on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, hullo," Hermione said. She reached into her bag for the box of treats the shop keeper had given her. She gave one to the big bird and then reached back into her bag for a quill and ink and a bit of parchment. She considered what she wanted to say. Finally, she settled on:

 _Ron,_

 _I'm back in London. If you don't have anything planned, could you come out to Heathgate? I've reopened the Floo. I'll be upstairs. I've missed you._

She stared at the page. How should she close? Finally, she wrote the Floo address and then closed with 'love, Hermione.' She folded the note and stuck it in an envelope and addressed it to Ron before handing it to Xerxes. "Do you mind taking this straight away?"

The owl bobbed its head and took flight out the door. Hermione went into the parlor. Dumbledore had put the house on the Floo network when she'd first started at Hogwarts so she and her parents could get into Diagon Alley to buy her school supplies, but it had been closed for the last few years for safety. She pulled out her wand and cast the spells to reopen it before going upstairs to take a shower, and try to pull herself together, in case Ron decided to come out.

xXx

Hermione stood in the shower letting the hot water sluice over her and tried to calm down. She was exhausted and her stomach felt like someone had been punching her all day. She wished she had beer or wine, anything to help her wind down, but there was nothing in the house, and she was too tired to go buy anything. She even considered going out to the shed to retrieve her father's abandoned cigarettes, but the back of the garden seemed miles away. She turned off the shower and got out and dried off. She wrapped the towel around her and looked in the mirror, which was a mistake. She hadn't looked this haggard since the war. Inviting Ron over had been a terrible idea. She looked worse than she felt and she felt awful. She squeezed as much water out of her hair as she could and then went upstairs to get dressed.

The only furnished room in the house was hers. She'd need to take care of that if she was going to live there. Upstairs, she got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She didn't have the energy to cast a glamour charm, so she let it go. Ron probably wasn't attracted to her in that way anyway. A spell wasn't going to fix that. She sighed and stood at one of the dormer windows in her attic bedroom. She leaned against it and stared out at the summer garden in full bloom. It looked a lot better now that she'd gone at it with some of Mrs. Weasley's spells. Her mum would be pleased that she'd maintained it. Her parents had enjoyed their garden, but they'd always paid someone else to take care of it. She supposed it wasn't that surprising then that they'd chosen a flat instead of a house when they moved to Sydney. The thought of them on the other side of the world living life without her left a gaping pit in her soul. She closed her eyes and wiped at the tears that spilled over. She had to stop crying about this. It was done. There was nothing she could do about it. She had to let go.

The Floo opened downstairs and she could hear Ron come up the stairs slowly as if he weren't sure what he was walking in on. She wasn't sure either. She wiped her face on the sleeve of her T-shirt, but didn't go to greet him.

"Hermione?" he said tentatively from her bedroom door.

"Hello, Ron," she said without turning around. But then he did the perfect thing. He came and stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin and held her tight. He asked after her parents and how her trip went and she answered honestly because she didn't have the energy to hide her agony. She wanted to weep from the relief of being back in his arms and suddenly she didn't care if he wanted her the way she wanted him, because her needs felt overwhelming. She needed the weight of him anchoring her. She needed him to fill her because she felt so very, very empty.

~ _finis_ ~

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. You might also like my books: **Exposed Fury** and **One Big Beautiful Thing** , available anywhere books are sold and on all digital platforms. Enjoy!


End file.
